


A Family Dysfunction

by Toonsgirl27



Category: Coco (2017), Pixar - Fandom
Genre: AU, Adultery, Alternate Universe, Different reason for the music ban, Ernesto is a jerk, F/M, Familial Love, Family Secrets, Forbidden Love, Forgiveness, Gossip, Hector is a sweetheart, Héctor is a Sweet Guy, Illegitimacy, Illegitimate Children, Imelda and Ernesto never loved each other, Imelda is a fiery queen, Imelda is still a shoe queen, Miguel loves his family, Music ban, Rumors, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toonsgirl27/pseuds/Toonsgirl27
Summary: Miguel Rivera grew up knowing who his great great grandparents were-kind, caring, and loving. One day, while looking through the family album for a school assignment, Miguel discovered an old marriage certificate. He was related to Ernesto De La Cruz...in name only. What happens when he asks Abuelita about it? Are there some secrets that Miguel didn’t know about?
Relationships: Héctor Rivera/Imelda Rivera, Miguel Rivera & The Rivera Family
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	1. The assignment

**Author's Note:**

> Re-edited the first chapter. Not that much different from the previous draft but it has some things that would help my story flow better.

A Family Dysfunction chapter one

“Class, let’s talk about families,” said Professor Sanchez. “Who knows about their family history?”

“I do! I do!” Everybody shouted, raising their hands. One of these students was a boy, Miguel Rivera.

“My ancestors were the Aztecs!” said Carlos.

“My tatarabuelo was from Spain!” Maria piped up.

“My Mama was from New Mexico and my Papa was from Arizona!” said Andrea.

“All right, children, silencio!” Professor Sanchez, spoke. When the class settled down again, she resumed talking. “I see that all of you are familiar with your family history.”  
All children nodded. “Dia dos los Muertos is right around the corner and this is will be a perfect time for you to learn your family history.” She picked up a piece of chalk and wrote the name of the assignment on the chalkboard. “Your homework is to draw a family tree diagram.” Sanchez showed the kids how to draw a family tree using herself and family, as an example.  
After explaining how a family tree is designed, she passed out the papers which each have a family tree template.

“All you need to do is fill out the names of your family, their birth dates (and death dates, if they passed away). This is due after Dia Dos Los Muertos. Do a good job and have fun!”

* * *

The bell rang and every student exited out of the Santa Cecilia Catholic school. Miguel, was feeling excited about his family history assignment. He knew his family history very well. His tatarabuelo, was Hector Rivera. He was a loving man who enjoyed spending time with his wife, Imelda and daughter, Coco.

Hector and Imelda were the ones who established the family shoe store in 1921. Imelda made shoes, while Hector did customer service. (He tried making shoes but he lacked talent in that area). When their daughter came of age, they taught her to make shoes. Next, they taught their son-in-law, Julio, and his sister, Rosita. Then their grandchildren, Victoria and Elena (Abuelita) were roped into the business. And so was Elena’s husband, Franco, and their children, Tío Berto, Tía Gloria, and Enrique (Papá), Berto’s wife, Tía Carmen and Enrique’s wife, Luisa. And now, Miguel and his primos would carry on the family tradition!

Miguel was so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when he heard his friends, Maria and Carlos, calling him.

“Oye, Miguel, mira mira!” Carlos cried, pointing to a poster on a nearby pole. “They are having a musical talent show on Dia Dos Muertos!”

“We are going to sign up!” Maria grinned, liking the idea. “Do you want to join us, Miguel?”

The Rivera boy’s smile turned upside down.  
If there was one thing that his family strongly disliked, it was music. Nobody was allowed to play music, listen to the radio, watch musicals and music videos, or sing songs. Even hearing the jingle from a Pizza Planet truck, angers Abuelita! The ancient music ban was something that was started by Mama Imelda and Papa Hector had agreed to it, for some reason.

“Oh I don’t know,” Miguel said, hesitantly. “Abuelita won’t allow me.”

“You like music!” Maria said.

“Yes, but I play my guitar in secret. My family will freak if they knew!”

“Maybe you should ask your parents,” Carlos suggested. “They’re more likely to approve than your abuela.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Miguel! This is a one-time opportunity!”

“Okay, maybe I will ask them,” Miguel nodded.

“Miguel!” a young female voice called. The boy looked over to see a fourteen year old girl who was waving over to him along with an boy, who looked no older than 19. They were both standing by their pick up truck.

“Oh that must be my cousins, Rosa and Abel. See you tomorrow amigos!” Miguel waved as he walked away from them.

“Bye Miguel!” Carlos and Maria waved back.

“Let’s hope they say yes!” Maria whispered to Carlos.

“Yeah but who knows?” Carlos shrugged.


	2. No Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel asks his family permission to enter the talent show. Abuelita attempts to tell the reason for the music ban, it fails.

When Miguel and his primos came home, they greeted their parents and grandparents with hugs and kisses. Last they embraced their beloved bisabuela, Mamá Coco.

“Hola Julio and Victoria!” The old woman smiled as her great-grandchildren kissed her.

“Hola Mamá Coco!” Miguel hugged her.

“Como estás, Julio?” 

Miguel’s smile turned upside down. Her memory was not doing so well. Sometimes she forgot names or confused her grandchildren with other relatives. 

“Oye, I thought I was Julio!” Abel said. 

WHAP!

“Ow!” the teenager yelped, rubbing the back of his head. 

Abuelita “Elena” Rivera, had hit him from behind with her chancla. “Stop confusing your bisabuela, and get back to work on those shoes for Señor Gomez!”

Abel shrank and backed away from her. “Yes, Abuelita.” He dashed before Abuelita could hit him with her shoe again.

“Rosa, deliver these shoes to Señor Hernandez!” The old woman put a box of shoes into her granddaughter’s hands. 

“Yes, Abuelita!” 

She walked away, happily, as if delivering shoes was her most favorite thing to do in the world.

Miguel rolled his eyes. Unlike the rest of the family, he foundworking in the Rivera shoe shop, to be quite a bore.  Why didn’t Mama Imelda and Papa Hector start a family business in something else like candy, toys, or fireworks? Anything more fun than shoes! Too bad doing a music shop was also out of the question. Otherwise, they would have been selling guitars.  Then the boy remembered the talent show that Carlos and Maria told him about. He would have asked his parents but they were busy with working on new shoes. Tío Berto, Papá Franco, and Tía Gloria had just left to deliver shoes to someone who lived in a different town next to Santa Cecilia. Tía Carmen was watching his younger cousins, Manny and Benny. So Abuelita was his only option. His grandmother rushed to the open window of their shop when she heard an impatient customer calling for her.

“Señora Rivera? Where’s my shoe order?”

“Hold your horses, Diego, it’s coming!” 

Grumbling about customers being impatient and annoying, she went to fetch a box of new shoes, while her grandson followed her like a duckling following its mother. 

“Abuelita, I need to ask you something.”

“Not now, Miguel,” Abuelita shooed him away. “I am busy!”

“But Abuelita-“

“Go and see Señora López next door, her shoes need shining!” 

“Yes, Abuelita,” the boy sighed, deflating. He would had have continuedto ask but, he knew better than to pester Abuelita when she was working. He supposed that his request would have to wait.

* * *

Later, dinner came around. Miguel was sitting next to Mamá Coco. 

“Mamá, Papá, Abuelita? May I ask you something?”

“Yes, Miguel, what is it that you wanted to ask?” Enrique smiled, ruffling his son’s hair. 

“There is a musical talent show coming up, Carlos and Maria are going to sign up and they also want me to um...s-sign-“

“Sign up?” his mother raised an eyebrow. 

Yes, Mamá.”

Abuelita frowned. Tío Berto and Abel spit out their drinks. Tía Carmen dropped her fork. Tía Gloria dropped her glass of water which crashed to the floor. Rosa and Franco gasped.

“Uh oh!” chorused Manny and Benny.

“No, absolutamente no!” Enrique spoke firmly, without any hesitation.

“But Papá!”

“You know the rules: No music!“

“Which I have told you that many times before!” Abuelita glared at him.

“But it’s only for one day on Dia Dos Muertos, and I really want to sign up!”

“Good luck!” Rosa snickered. “You need talent to be in the talent show. It’s not like you can play an instrument, like a violin!”

“Yeah,” Abel sneered. “Or an accordion!” 

“Hey, that’s enough!” Franco chided them. 

Abuelita’s frown deepened even more, when she heard what day the talent show was on. 

“Dia Dos Muertos is a holiday that you spend with your familias, not at some silly musical show! Come with me to the ofrenda after dinner.”

Miguel shrank in his seat, wishing that the ground would swallow him up. He knew they were going to say no. Why did he bother asking them? 

* * *

After dinner was over, Miguel followed Abuelitawhile she pushed Mamá Coco, who was in a wheelchair toward the ofrenda. They walked inside, both grandmas and grandson standing in front of the family ofrenda. 

“Like I said, Días Dos Muertos is a holiday when we all spend time with our family. Especially with our ancestors! We put their photos and memorabilia up on the ofrenda so they can cross over and visit us, once a year. Being here for this family is very important to them.”

“What does this have to do with the music ban?” 

“It has everything to do with the music ban! Music ruined your Papa Héctor’s life!”

“How?”

Her grandson was curious. While he knew the music ban, he didn’t know what really happened that made his great-great grandparents to enforce it. He had asked before but nobody would tell him why, because they didn’t know themselves. And they didn’t want to receive Elena’s wrath for bringing it up. Perhaps...Abuelita is telling him now?

Fear flashed through the old woman’s eyes. 

“I cannot tell you!”

“Por qué? What happened to Papa Héctor-“

“Music ruined his life-that’s all you need to know!” 

“But-“

“No more questions!”

“Papá?” Mamá Coco asked. She had been so quiet that Abuelita and Miguel almost forgot that she was here. 

“Is Papá here?” The 99-year-old woman asked, again. “Is Mamá here?”

“No Mamá, Papá and Mamá are not here. But I am here.”

“Victoria, mija, is that you?”

Abuelita let out a sad sigh. Her mother cannot recognize her anymore.

“Mira Miguel, that’s all I can say. Music ruined Papá Hector, almost cost him, and I don’t want that to happen to you.” She didn’t hear a response or a question from the 12-year-old. “Miguel?” She looked up and saw that the boy had disappeared. Where did he run off? 

She sighed, again. He was always running off to who-knows-where. She had attempted to tell him something important and he ran off! Abuelita looked up at the photo of her grandparents. 

“Papá Hector and MamáImelda, what am I going to do? I wished I can tell him why but that would mean revealing your secret.”

“I can tell him,” Mamá Coco suggested. Her voice was weak and soft, but Elena managed to hear her. 

“No, Mamácita, it is best if I tell him myself,” the 60-year-old woman answered. “Besides I need to figure how to do it delicately.” Her shoulders sagged, and her eyes became cloudy. “Oh, but even if I do, he’ll never forgive me!”


	3. A marriage certificate

A Family Dysfunction chapter 3

Miguel had climbed up to the top of Rivera hacienda, and went inside the attic. He quietly closed the door, so that one could hear him. He turned the light on, which hanged from the wooden ceiling. The boy kneeled down to open a trunk that was by the wall. Before he could, he heard the door opening. Fear gripped the boy’s heart, as he quickly closed the lid of the trunk. When his eyes laid on a Xoloitzcuintli, he sighed in relief, “Oh Dante, you scared me!” 

Dante just stared him happily with his long tongue hanging out and glancing around.

“Quick! In here!” Miguel whispered frantically, ushering the dog. Dante followed inside as the boy closed the door, posthaste. “You know that if anybody heard me playing music, they’dbe furious!” The boy opened the trunk and pulled out a guitar. It was an old guitar that Miguel had put it together by himself. He tuned it up and began to strum the strings. “If only someone wanted to hear me play, other than you.” Dante sat down next to him and listened to his human friend play the guitar. 

The attic had been Miguel’s private room that contained his secret collection of music, especially anything related to his favorite celebrity, Ernesto de la Cruz. There was even an ofrenda, dedicated to him! 

Miguel put a VHS in the video cassette player and pressed play. It was a movie containing the best clips of Ernesto. Almost every day, the boy practiced playing his guitar by mimicking the deceased movie star. He had mastered all the songs that Ernesto had played and sang. His favorite song was Remember Me. 

He loved how fun and exciting that song sounded. 

“How could something that sounds so lovely be forbidden?” Miguel asked Dante. The dog said nothing but only scratched his ear with his leg. 

“Is there anyone in the family who would know about the music ban, Dante?” Miguel asked.   
  


“Arf!” The dog answered, as if saying “Maybe.”

“Maybe my cousins from out of town would know!” 

Hector and Imelda had other children, in addition to Coco. Their names were José, Selene, Manuel, and Clara. Unlike Mama Coco who had stayed with her parents, the rest of the children had moved out of Santa Cecilia to open up branches of the Rivera shoe business. 

Miguel texted his cousins Josefina (great-great granddaughter of Jose Rivera), Indio (great great grandson of Selene Rivera), Raul (great great grandson of Manuel Rivera), and Anita (great great granddaughter of Clara) the same question.

Miguel: Do you guys know how the music ban happened? 

Josefina: No, Miguel. Papa José doesn’t like to talk about it. 

Indio: No, I don’t know. Mama Selene wouldn’t say anything.

Raul: Papa Manuel said he will tell me when I am 21.

Anita: Lo siento Miguel, pero yo no sé. Last time I asked Mamá Clara, she preferred not to talk about it.

Miguel sighed. So his primos were just as clueless as him. 

* * *

While watching a scene in which Ernesto kissed a woman (“Blech!” Miguel stick his tongue out.), the boy received a group text on his hand me down cell phone.

Carlos and Maria: Hola Miguel!

Miguel texted back.

Miguel: Hola amigos!

Carlos: Have you asked your parents if you can play in the talent show with us?

Dread filled him. He knew they were going to ask that question. 

Miguel: Yes

Maria: What did they say?

Miguel: They said no.

Carlos: Qué!?

Maria: Qué!?

Miguel: I know, I know, but I told you they’d say no.

Carlos: That’s not fair!

Maria: Did they say why?

Miguel: I asked Abuelita and she said it was because music ruined Papa Hector.

Carlos: How did music ruin his life?

Miguel: I don’t know, she wouldn’t talk about it.

Carlos: You got to be in the talent show! This is your time to shine. Like Ernesto de la Cruz said, Seize your moment!

Maria: Carlos, it is not the end of the world if Miguel can’t perform with us. There is always next year! 

Carlos: But there is a $200 prize in the show! I want to win the prize to buy a video game! 

Maria and Miguel rolled their eyes at their friend’s text.

Maria: How did music ruin his life?

Miguel: I don’t know, she wouldn’t talk about it.

Maria: Ask your parents. Maybe they will tell you.

Miguel thought about her suggestion. He knew what would happen if he asked his parents. Enrique would scowl and walk away in silence. Luisa would grew worried and change the subject by assigning him to chores. 

Miguel: I’ll think about it. I gotta go and work on the family tree assignment. Gotta get it out of the way! Bye!

As soon as he finished the texting, he stuffed the phone back into his hoodie pocket. He knew it was a lie but what can he do? As much as he was disappointed about not playing in the talent show, convincing his family to change their minds was impossible. To ease his conscience, he pulled his homework assignment out of his pocket and began writing on it.

* * *

So far, he has everybody’s names down except Mamá Imelda and Papa Hector. He was unsure oftheir full names or their birth and death dates.

Lucky for him, the attic contained a few boxes of family albums.

* * *

It took the boy a while to find a family album that showed the early years of Imelda and Hector. As he tiredly, flipped through the pages, he was jolted awake when Dante jumped into his lap. He carried what looked like an envelope and dropped it into the boy’s lap.  


“Dante, what’s this? Where did you get the envelope from?”  


Dante pointed his nose at a box nearby. It was labeled “Certificates,” which had been opened and knocked down with other certificates. “Oh bueno, now I got something!” Miguel smiled, as he opened the envelope. Eagerly, his eyes scanned the marriage certificate, expecting to see the Hector’s and Imelda’s birth dates....only to find something else instead.

Imelda’s name was there, but not Hector’s.

“No comprendo,” Miguel whispered to himself. “How can this be?” He took the marriage certificate and exited out of theattic. Dante was about to follow him, but Miguel told him to stay. Last time he let Dante into the house, Abuelita threw a shoe at him, violently. Dante was frustrated that he couldn’t come. How was he supposed to give his boy support?  
  


* * *

“Mamá, Papá!” The boy cried, rushing into the living room of the hacienda. His mother was sitting in a rocking chair, sewing baby socks for her baby, which will be born in three months. Enrique was reading a newspaper. Berto and Franco were sharing drinks. Carmen and Gloria were talking to Mama Coco. Franco and Elena were watching over Manny and Benny. Abel and Rosa were taking selfies of each other with the their cell phones (much to Abuelita’s annoyance).

“Qué pasa, Miguel?” Luisa asked, looking up from her sewing. 

It took her son a while to catch his breath from running. 

“Was Mamá Imelda really married to Papa Hector?” 

“Claro está!” Enrique answered, looking up from his newspaper. “You know they’ve been together for many years! Right guys?”

The rest of the family nodded with “sí” and “por supuesto.” Nobody except Mamá Coco noticed Elena looking as if she stole a cookie from a cookie jar.

“Then why does this say she was married to Ernesto de la Cruz?” the boy asked, holding marriage certificate. 

The family raised their eyebrows and looked at him, confused. Then they looked to Abuelita and Mama Coco. The former was sweating and the latter looked a bit sad.  


The twelve-year-old boy marched up to his grandmother.  


“Abuelita, is there something I don’t know about?”

Elena breathes out a sigh and shook her head. Now she has to really tell him. 


	4. Mama Coco’s confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abuelita and Mamá Coco decide to finally tell the truth.

A Family Dysfunction chapter 4

Abuelita and Mama Coco led the whole family into the ofrenda room. They chose the location because it was the only room of the hacienda that had no windows. 

Once every Rivera entered the ofrenda room, Abuelita locked the door. The last thing she wanted was people to eavesdrop on them. 

She turned to the rest of the family who had crowded around Mama Coco and sat down next to her. 

“Miguelito, where did you find the marriage certificate? And what were you doing there in the attic?”

“I was looking at the family album for a school project,” Miguel explained. “I had to create a family tree with everyone’s names and birth dates and if deceased, death dates. I looked at it, expecting to find Papa Hector’s full name only to find Ernesto de la Cruz’s name instead!” 

Everybody started talking all at once. 

“Mamá Imelda was married to Ernesto de la Cruz?!” Rosa gasped. 

“Maldita sea!” Abel exclaimed. 

“I thought she was married to Papa Hector!”Berto cried. 

“So did I!” Tía Gloria added. 

“Maybe she got a divorce and married Hector?” Tía Carmen suggested.

“I had looked to see if Mamá Imelda had another marriage certificate, but this was the only one I found!” Miguel replied. 

“Miguel, I am sure there is an explanation for this,” Luisa assured him. 

“Your mother is right,” Enrique added. 

“SILENCIO!” Abuelita shouted. Overwhelmed by the noise, she took a deep breath. “This is not easy for me or for Mamá to tell you!” Abuelita cried. “None of you were supposed to know this!” She said this as she snatched the marriage certificate out of her grandson’s hand. 

(“Ow, you almost gave me a paper cut!” the boy whined). 

“Your Mama Imelda had a rough life so I ask of you all not to judge her so harshly!”

“Mamá and Mamá Coco,” Enrique said slowly and gently. “Please tell us what happened.”

“I will talk, Elena,” Mama Coco stopped her daughter before she could speak. “No need to talk for me, until I say so.” She turned to her descendants. “Everyone, I have a confession to make: Mamá and Papa were never married.”

The whole family showed similar reactions to Coco’s confession. Rosa gasped. Berto and Gloria looked livid. How could Imelda and Hector do this to their great-grandmother? How could they commit such a great sin against God? Luisa and Carmen put their hands to their mouths, feeling sympathy toward the old matriarch. Franco and Abel looked confused. Enrique wasn’t sure what to think. He had always respected Imelda and Hector but had been taught that having a child out of wedlock was not socially acceptable. Now he wasn’t sure what to think. Although Miguel was only twelve, he was aware of how taboo it is to be an illegitimate child. How could Imelda do this to Coco? 

“I know what you are all thinking,” Mamá Coco announced. “And I understand how you feel, I used to feel that way, too. However, I had learned that my parents were in very a difficult situation and couldn’t get out of it.” 

“How come Mamá Imelda was married to Ernesto de la Cruz?” Miguel asked, nervously. He had learned that Ernesto was a very charismatic man. He was the greatest musician ever! But the musician was also one of the greatest playboys ever. The fact that Mamá Imelda was one of the many women that Ernesto dated sounded so wrong. 

“It all started at the very beginning in 1915....,” Mama Coco began.


	5. Loss of Purity and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Imelda as a young woman. She used to have a happy life until she met Ernesto de la Cruz.
> 
> **WARNING: This chapter is emotionally intense and implies rape.**

We turn back the clock to the turn of the 20th century. To the time in which men wore suspenders and women wore long dresses. Where people ride on horses or drove horse carriages. Where people work hard to survive, but still find time to dream. One of these Mexicans of the past, was Imelda Alana Angelica Rodriguez Morales.

Imelda was a bright and lovely young woman, who lived with her father, mother, and brothers, in a nice house. She didn’t always live in Santa Cecilia, she was born and raised in a village, Pátzcuaro. As a child, Imelda was a typical tomboy-loved climbing trees, riding horses, and playing in the mud. But she did enjoy typical feminine activities like playing with dolls and giving her girlfriends braids. 

One early evening, Imelda decided to go to a live concert at the plaza. 

“Adiós Mamá y Papá! I’m going dancing!”

“Adiós Imelda!” her mother, Martha called. 

“Don’t stay out too late!” her father, Francisco Javier, warned her. “It’s not safe for a woman to be out on her own!” 

“Cálmese Papa,” Imelda assured him. “I am going with my amigas, Alana, Abril and Amalia. They’ll keep me safe.” After kissing her parents and her brothers goodbye, she left the house.

Despite their daughter’s assurance, Francisco Javier looked worried. 

“Even with a group of amigos, she shouldn’t be out-What if something happens to her?” 

“She’ll be fine,” Martha answered. “As long as she’s with her friends.”

* * *

“Todos bailen!” a musician announced, before jamming on his guitar.

The plaza at Pátzcuaro was such a lively place. There was a live Mariachi band that played popular favorites. The men clapped their hands and tapped their heels and the women swished their skirts round and round! Imelda never missed a chance to twirl around to every song.

After dancing for two hours, Alana, Abril, and Amalia decided they had enough. 

“Come on, chicas!” Imelda smiled, as she kept twirling. “Todas bailen!”

“I have to go home now, Imelda,” said Abril. “I have to work at Señora Montoya’s seamstress shop tomorrow!”

“I am tired!” Alana yawned.

“Yo también!” Amalia piped up. 

“Well, I am going to stay here!” Imelda added. 

“Imelda, we want to go home,” Abril said, firmly. “And you should, too.”

“You girls go home, if you want to,” Imelda resounded. “I’ll stay here for one more dance!”

The women bade Imelda goodbye and went their way. 

“Just one more dance and then I’ll go home!” Imelda promised herself. But then one dance turned into two dances, then three dances. At 10:45pm, Imelda finally danced her last. 

“Oye, I am exhausted!” 

The young lady began to head home, when she felt someone approaching her from behind. Swiftly, she turned her head and punched the intruder in the chest.

“Oh I am terribly sorry, señorita,” the man said in such a very soft voice. He was a huge muscled man with a big chin and a thin mustache. He rubbed the pain on his chest. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

“Well, you certainly did!” Imelda said, her hand over her pounding heart. “What do you want?”

“Oh nada, nada!” the man answered, smoothly. “I was wondering what a young lady like you was doing here, all by yourself.”

“I came to dance at the plaza, like everybody else! Why are you here?”

“What a coincidence!” the man said very smoothly. “That‘s also why I‘m here! In fact, I am also one of the mariachi singers that played tonight! Did you see me?”

Imelda raised an eyebrow. “I am afraid not.”

“Que?” the man asked. “How could you not see me? Everybody did! All the women swooned over me!”

“I was having so much with dancing that I became lost in myself!” Imelda defended herself. “Besides, the crowd was so big and loud that it was hard to see you, specifically.”

“Oh nothing to be sorry about,” the man purred. He was carrying a guitar behind his back. The bulky man pulled the instrument out and strummed it. “Why don’t I play a little tune and then you will get to see and hear me?”

“All right,” Imelda nodded, hesitantly. 

“This is a song that I wrote by myself,” the man winked, as he strummed again. 

“ You know that feeling? Like there's a song in the air, and it's playing just for you?

A feeling so close, you can reach out and touch it

I never knew I could want something so much but it's true ...,”

Imelda felt herself swooning at this man’s charming performance. But it wasn’t his voice that captivated her. It was the song. It sounded so poetic, so romantic!

When the man finished, Imelda clapped for him. 

“You sang very well! And the song was so beautiful!”

“Gracias, señorita.” The man put his guitar behind his back. “Why don’t we come to my house and have a drink?” 

“Yo no se,” Imelda said. “I promised my family, I’d be back home.”

“Oh, it won’t take long,” the hombre promised her. “You must be thirsty from all that dancing! A drink will refresh you.”

Thinking how thirsty she was from partying, Imelda figured a drink wouldn’t hurt. She walked with the man. 

“Oh forgive me,” Imelda chuckled nervously as she walked beside him. “I haven’t told you my name. Me llamo Imelda Rodriguez. Cómo te llamas?”

“Ernesto de la Cruz.”

* * *

They entered into his house. It was small and brown. Imelda was surprised at how dirty the place looked. Bed was unmade, and there was newspaper flying on the floor. Ernesto told her to sit down at the table while he prepared two drinks. 

The woman had a feeling that something was wrong but she ignored it. The house looked friendly and Ernesto seemed nice, what was there to be alarmed? 

“I hope you like Tequila,” Ernesto smiled, as he sat down. He handed her her drink. 

“I do!” said Imelda. “I’m the only girl in my family that likes it!” 

“Let’s make a toast to our new friendship! I’d do anything for you, even if the sky came crashing down!” 

“But we only just met!”

“Consider this as the beginning of our beautiful friendship! Salud!” They clinked their drinks.

Imelda drank her glass with her eyes closed. She was savoring the taste of tequila so much that she had failed to notice Ernesto’s cold eyes and a smirk. 

The young lady began to giggle uncontrollably. 

“I’m feeling wooooooozyyyy...,” she slurred. She picked up her empty glass. “What was in that drink?” 

“Uh, nada!” Ernesto lied. He quickly threw a small can of pills out the window, and regain his composure. 

Imelda wobbled over to the window. “Are there pink elephants flying out there?” 

Ernesto’s eyes laid on her legs and they traveled to her rear. “Hmmm, nice.” The muscular man, licked his lips. “You must not be feeling well.” He grabbed her shoulders a bit too hard. “Why don’t we just lie down on the bed?” 

He seized the uncontrollable giggling woman and threw her on the bed. 

“Weee, that was fun!” Imelda laughed loudly. If the young woman wasn’t feeling dizzy, she would have gotten up. 

Ernesto jumped on her, very roughly. 

Next, the man greedily, ripped her dress apart and pulled her underwear down. The selfish musician had no concern about the poor woman’shonor or her purity. With a very wicked grin, he began to have his way with her...

* * *

“Dios Míos!” Luisa gasped, putting her hands to her mouth. “Was she...?” She trailed off, not wanting to say “rape” in front of the children. 

“Yes,” Mamá Coco nodded, solemnly. 

“This is scary!” Miguel whimpered, clinging to his Mamá’s hand. 

“Sadly, this kind of vulgarity happens a lot, Miguelito,” Abuelita sighed, wearily. “It was seen as ‘normal’ back in those days.” 

“What happened next?” Tia Gloria asked, trembling. She was curious but at the same time too scared to find out. 

“The next day, Mamá woke up and ran awayhome, hoping to forget about it,” Mamá Coco answered. “When Abuelita, Abuelito, and Tíos Oscar and Felipe asked her where she had been, she wouldn’t talk. She felt ashamed of what happened.”

“How did she get stuck with Ernesto de la Cruz?” Abel asked.

“Oh she discovered something terrible: She was with child.”

Everybody’s heart sank, knowing what they meant by that. 

“She was not feeling well and when her parents took her to the doctor, that was when they found out...,”

* * *

“You’re pregnant!?” Francisco Javier shouted. “You opened your legs for some man!?”

“Imeldita, how could this happen?” Martha gasped. 

“Lo siento!” Imelda apologized, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

“Well, guess what, idiota!” her father yelled. “It f@&?! happened!”

“Francisco Javier!” Martha scolded. “Watch your language!”

“I will not allow a dishonorable woman in my household!”

“Well, I will not allow you to treat our daughter so harshly!” Martha turned to her only girl. “Quien es el padre?

“Ernesto de la Cruz.”

“You’ll have to marry him.”

“QUE!?”

“It’s the only way to save your honor!”

“But Mamá, I don’t love him!” Imelda protested. “He took advantage of me!”

“SILENCIO IMELDA!” Her father shouted. “Think of the family reputation! Do you think I want the town to look down on us? No I don’t!”

“But Papa!”

“End of discussion Imelda! You will marry Ernesto whether you like it or not! This is about saving your honor!”

* * *

“So she had to marry Ernesto??” Miguel asked, shocked and disgusted. He couldn’t imagine Imelda marrying anyone that is not Hector.

“I am afraid so, Miguel,” Abuelita answered. “She had no choice. It was a very small and quiet ceremony at the church. No witness was there except her family.”

“Who was Imelda pregnant with?” Franco asked. He knew that it couldn’t be Coco or any of her siblings.

“No one,” Mamá Coco answered, sadly. “Mamá lost her baby.”

Sadness flashed through the whole family. 

“After the wedding happened, Mamá had hoped that the baby would bring her relief. But some months later, she felt it not moving. That is when she knew something was wrong...,”

* * *

A mid-wife took a baby out of Imelda’s womb. Imelda was exhausted and tired from all that pushing. She expected to hear the baby cry, but only heard silence. “Que pasa? Why is the baby not crying?”

“Dónde está mi hijo?” Ernesto’s booming voice rang, as he walked into the room. “I can’t wait to call him Ernesto Jr!”

“Señor de la Cruz?” the mid wife said loudly. She had to speak up to get his attention. “I am afraid the baby didn’t make it,” She showed him the baby who was not breathing at all.

When Ernesto saw that the baby was stillborn, his smile faded. Then he clenched his fists and his face tightened. 

“You, stupid, stupid, stupid WOMAAAAN!” He snarled at Imelda. “Ooh, I could just kill you!!”

“Ernesto-,”

“SHUT UUUUUUP!!” He screamed. “THIS IS ALL YOUR DAMN FAULT!! WHY DID YOU LOSE THE FREAKING BABY, YOU STUPID PUTA! I ONLY MARRIED YOU TO SAVE FACE! NOW MY REASON FOR MARRYING NO LONGER EXISTED! NOW I FEEL TRAPPED IN THIS STUPID MARRIAGE! F@&!£ YOU, YOU WHORE!” 

Then he stormed out of the room and slammed the door. It was so loud that the women winced. 

Imelda turned her head and began to cry. Her crying turned into sobbing. She sobbed so hard that tears splashed onto her pillow. Why was she being punished? What did she do to deserve this horrible fate? The woman refused to be comforted by the midwife because her baby was no more. Also, there was no one out there that loved her. No one. Not one person.


	6. Meet Hector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Imelda met Hector

“After the death of her baby, Mama spend many days crying in her room,” Mama Coco. continued, “Ernesto made no attempt to try to console her, because he didn’t know to comfort a grieving woman.”

* * *

Ernesto and Imelda had been sleeping in separated beds and in different rooms. They had never touched each other since that night two years ago.

One morning, Imelda slept soundly in her bed. She was jolted awake by someone pouring cold water over her head. “Ahhh!” she screamed. She sat up immediately, and wiped water from her face, with the corner of her blanket. 

Ernesto stood there, holding a jug that had been filled with water, a few seconds ago. “You’re sleeping the whole day away!? Get up and make me breakfast!” 

“Cállate,” Imelda spat. “I’m tired. I’ve been working around the house all day yesterday!”

“Don’t talk like that to me, you stupid puta!” her husband spat back. He pulled the blanket off her, not caring that she was shivering. “Now stop your slobbering, and make me beans!” 

He stomped out of the room, closing the door. 

After Imelda got dressed, she said a silent prayer to the Lord for peace. 

Then she went to do her many chores that Ernesto so lovingly dumped on her. 

First, she made his bed. Next, she went downstairs and began making beans. While cooking beans, Ernesto sat around on the table, reading his newspaper. 

“Make me coffee!” he demanded. “I need lots of energy for work today!”

The woman grudgingly grabbed a pot and some coffee beans. “What work?” she grumbled. “All you do is show off your guitar like a fool!” She put a pot in the fire and threw beans in it. “Not to mention you don’t sing well!”

“Cállate!” Ernesto snapped from his newspaper. 

“No, really!” Imelda wouldn’t stop talking. “You have a great voice, but you rarely spend any time rehearsing. When was the last time you practice singing? How can you be any good if you don’t practice?”

Ernesto threw his newspaper down on the table. “How dare you speak to me like that! Who do you think you are? I am the greatest musician ever! You are just a stupid little woman! And where are my beans and coffee?”

The more he yelled at her, the more angry Imelda became. If she could, she’d hit or slap him. But this wasn’t a good time to do it, because she had food to make. 

After finishing beans and coffee, she served them to her husband. 

“Here you go, your majesty,” Imelda growled. 

Ernesto took one bite of her beans, scrunched up his face, and spit them out. His chewed-up beans flew into his wife’s face. “Ugh, this is the worst beans I have ever tasted!”

Then, the man, took a sip of his coffee and also spit it out. His coffee splashed onto Imelda’s face. 

“Why does this coffee taste like s@&$? Don’t you ever read the recipe? You stink!”

“I do not!” Imelda snapped, her hands clenching into fists. “I followed the recipes very well! My friends’ husbands like whatever food they are served, why can’t you like my cooking, too?”

“Oh por favor!” Ernesto laughed, mockingly. “No man would ever like your cooking, either! They’d agree with me!” He stood up and dumped the food outside through the window. “Heck, they even feel sorry for me because I married a woman who can’t do anything-not even cook!”

“At least, I don’t show off in front of big crowds!” Imelda sneered. “You don’t even get paid well!”

Her eyes widened when her husband turned to her with a dark glare.

“You should be lucky that you are married to me! Any other man would have discarded you for good! And I am not talking about your cooking, puta!”

Then, Ernesto walked towards the door before Imelda could either yell or try to hit him with her shoe. 

“Adios, witch!” He shouted, before slamming the door. 

“Good riddance!” Imelda shouted. He had left but she only said it thus she wouldn’t have to worry about being hearing another insult from him. 

Next, the woman made herself huevos divorciados. She’s the only one that likes her sunny side up fried eggs, topped with green salsa. She would have served it to Ernesto but last time she did, he complained that the sauce was too hot. “You’re Mexican, how could you not handle the salsa?” she had yelled, at one point. Then when she gave him the eggs without the salsa, he complained that the eggs gave him a headache. That was why she had to always serve him beans and coffee. 

After finishing her breakfast, she began to clean up. She cleaned the stove, swept the floor, and washed dishes. Then she went outside to sweep the courtyard and water flowers. 

It took a long time but she finally finished her household chores. She could read or sew for an hour before getting started on dinner.

In the evening, Ernesto came home, plopped down on the chair and put his feet up on the other one. “Imelda, rub my feet!” he demanded. “I had been standing and walking all day!” 

His wife reluctantly walked over and rubbed his feet. Imelda wished she had a clothespin so she wouldn’t have to smell his feet. 

After two hours of rubbing feet, dinner was served. 

“Phew!” Ernesto gagged after spitting his food out. “What is this? Rubber shoes?” 

“Beef enchiladas, genius,” Imelda said, bitterly. 

“Well, they stink!” Ernesto said, in a snobby voice. “I’ve tasted better enchiladas than this mush!” Despite her protests, Ernesto threw his dinner out of the window. 

“Now get me ready for bed!”

After Imelda put his clothes on and tuckedhim in bed, she went to her room. She put on her pajamas and sat down in her bed. 

Imelda was sick and tired of this terrible life. The same routine over and over again: get up, dress Ernesto, feed him, do chores, feed him and dress him for bed. It’s so boring!

It would have been nice if she could get away or find a friend to talk. Ernesto was always out so muchthat he may as well not be her husband. Her parents did not visit her or write to her, like they had promised. Imelda had a sinking feeling that her father thought of her as a “puta”. When she got married, she thought her father would forgive her and forget her sin. But the fact that he failed to write to her showed her otherwise. Her brothers had tried their best to visit her but they were too busy with school and chores. Her friends were also occupied with their families to check on her. Clutching on her rosary, Imelda began to pray. Through her many prayers, Imelda prayed for a friend.

* * *

“When did Papa Hector come along?” Miguel piped up. It was not that he couldn’t handle tense scenes. The boy just hoped that Hector would come into the picture sooner than later so Imelda wouldn’t be sad for long.

“I am glad you asked, Miguelito,” His bisabuela smiled. 

* * *

One day, Ernesto was chatting with other musicians about how much he disliked his wife.

“...To this day, I still hate being married,” he concluded, on his rant. 

“Yes, Ernesto,” his friend, Gustavo groaned. “I have been hearing that speech a million times before! Why did you ever marry her in the first place? You should have thought of this before marrying Imelda!” 

“How was I supposed to know that she was a nagging shrew?” Ernesto grumbled. 

“Now, now Ernesto,” said Antonio. “You know how Imelda is: strong, fiery, and smart. Surely you must know that.”

“Yes,” said Ernesto. “But not quite like this. I should have picked a different woman!”

“Yeah, you should have!” Gustavo agreed. 

“Mira, Mira!” Antonio crowd, pointing to a big poster by the bulletin board by the plaza. “They’re having a talent show coming up in three months! Let’s sing up!”

The men walked up to the poster and looked at it.

“Good idea!” Ernesto smiled. “We will enter in it as a band! We got a trumpet player (Antonio), a violinist (Gustavo), and a guitarist (me)!” 

“We need a songwriter,” Antonio said. 

“A songwriter?” Ernesto questioned. “Why do we need one? Can’t we just sing covers of folklore songs?” 

“The poster says that we need to sing original songs.” Antonio explained. “Whoever has the best original song, will win Fifty pesos.”

Ernesto thought deeply. Then, he snapped his fingers. “I just know the perfect songwriter to ask!” 

* * *

Inside the town’s library, Ernesto took a pen and paper. He wrote a letter to his friend from Santa Cecilia. 

_ Dear Hector, _

_I offer my congratulations to you for finishing your high school studies. I have a job for you. My band is going to join our town’s talent show and we need a songwriter. I thought of you because you have a talent at writing_ _songs. Meet me at my house on July 29th 1917, at 5:30, so we can work on a new song. Attached to my letter is my street address:_ _450 Rojo Rd. Pátzcuaro, Mexico._

_ I wait for you to come.  _

_ Sincerely, Ernesto de la Cruz. _

After he was done writing, he mailed the letter. It took a week for his letter to reach Santa Cecilia.

* * *

A few weeks later, Ernesto received a response from his friend. 

“Good news, amigos!” He addressed Gustavo and Antonio. “Hector has responded and he is coming!”

The three men were so excited that they jumped and yelled their gritos. Now they are going to be in the talent show!

“I can smell the prize money already!” Gustavo cheered, with dollar signs in his eyes. 

“What’s Hector like?” Antonio asked. “Is he reliable? We need someone who is talented and responsible!”

“Por supuesto!” said Ernesto. “Hector is the most responsible guy I have ever known!” 

* * *

On July 29, 1917, a man who was about 18 years old, was rushing to the train station. He had overslept and did not want to miss his train! He was lucky that his Tío Chicharron woke him up, otherwise he would have been doomed! The young man had thrown on clothes, grabbed his suitcase, and dashed out of his home, not having time to eat breakfast. His Tía Juanita insisted on eating but he didn’t have time so the best she could offer him was a piece of bread. The tall man ran as fast as he could. As soon as he made it to the train station, the man quickly spoke to a conductor. 

“Perdóname Señor, is this the train to Pátzcuaro?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Yes, this is the right train!” the conductor responded, kindly.

The young man hopped onto the train just as the door was about to close. Once he was inside the car, the man found an empty seat and sat down, breathing a sigh of relief. 

Whew! He made it! 

“All aboard!” the conductor hollered. “All aboard!” the conductor hollered. “Pátzcuaro, let’s go!” Right on cue, the driver started the train‘s engine and began driving it.“Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga!”

The young man popped his head out of the window to see the view. The wind blew through his unkempt black hair as if it were combing it. He laughed as the air tickled his goatee. 

“This is the start of a new adventure! I cannot wait!”

* * *

The train stopped and opened its doors. Many passengers stepped out and found their friends and family who wholeheartedly greeted them. Eagerly, the young man hopped off with his suitcase. He looked around, taking in the sight of the town. It looked similar to Santa Cecilia but it had more people and some more towns. Hector sighed, a bit disappointed that his host wasn’t here to come and pick him up. Shouldn’t the host show him around town? Hector shrugged good-naturally. He will find his way around here. After reading the letter for the third time, his eyes landed on thestreet address. 

“Where is 450 Rojo Rd.?”

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Imelda heard a knock on the door.

“Ugh, my moment of peace is over,” she grumbled, turning the stove off. She had been cooking rice before somebody knocked. “Time to greet the bull, feed him dinner that he never likes, and hear an obnoxious lecture of how much he hates my cooking! Honestly, is there any food he likes, he hates everything!” She walked to the door and opened. Her irritatation at having to deal with Ernesto again, melted away. It wasn’t her husband, but a tall and scrawny man with big nose and big ears. 

“Hola Señor, how may I help you?” 

“Hola Señora!” the man greeted her, kindly. “Es esta la casa de Ernesto de la Cruz?”

“Why do you ask?” Imelda asked, suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“Oh forgive me, I almost forgot to introduce myself!” the man chuckled. “Me llamo Hector Roberto Fabio Garcia Rivera. I am an old friend of your husband from high school. Ernesto had written to me to visit and help him work on new songs for the town’s upcoming talent show. He told me to be here today at five-thirty today. Is he here?”

Imelda relaxed a bit, seeing that this man was not a stranger. 

“Please come in,” she said, moving aside. 

Hector stepped inside with his suitcase. He looked around the house and noticed how clean it looked, yet there was a feeling about this house that didn’t seem right. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. “Nice place you have.” 

“Yes, this is the right casa and you are on time,” Imelda frowned, apologetically. “But as you can see, he is not here.”

“Oh,” Hector blushed, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Perdóname, I should come back another time.” He picked up his suitcase and took only a few steps when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, don’t go!” Imelda said, a bit frantic. “You can stay here! Ah, in fact, why don’t you stay here for dinner? My husband will be home by then!”

“Oh no, I don’t want you to trouble yourself. I can come back at a later-“

He opened the door, only to find that the rain had started to pour down.

“I didn’t know it was going to rain,” Hector sighed, in annoyance. “I should have brought a raincoat. Oh well, it’s not too far to walk to the hotel.”

He jumped back when thunder roared across the sky.

“Well, there’s no way I am letting you walk in the rain and catch a cold!” His hostess piped up. 

“But Señora!” Hector pleaded, at seeing her closing the door. “My hotel is not that far!”

“Ah, ah , ah!” Imelda chided. “You are staying here until my husband gets home and until the storm stops!” After locking it, she turned around and faced her handsome guest, kindly. “So, what would you like to eat?”   



	7. A peaceful dinner

The handsome guest was taken aback by his host’s question. Remembering his manners, the young man regained his composure. 

“Um, I like anything,” Hector shrugged. “Whatever you serve, I will eat.”

Imelda quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’ll eat  anything ? Let’s make things easy for me. What is your favorite dish?”

“Chapulines.”

“Great, I’ll get started on it!” Imelda smiled and dashed back to the kitchen. Her guest followed her. 

“Do you need any help?” 

Hector’s question surprised her. No one has ever asked her that. Imelda shook her head.

“No gracias.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, I have it under control.”

“I could help you cook-“

“Ah, ah, ah!  I will cook!  You will sit down!” Imelda led Hector out of the kitchen and sat him down on a chair by the table.

“Aww, at least let me help you set the table,” the guest proposed. 

“You can do that after the cooking is done!” Imelda emphasized. It is not that she didn’t want his help. She was just used to doing dishes by herself that she hardly need help. Besides, the kitchen is so small that only one person can be in it. 

“Hmmm...oh well, whatever you say,” Hector shrugged, again. He pulled a little red notebook and a pencil out of his suitcase and placed them on the table. Next, Hector opened his guitar case and took out his guitar. He tuned it and strummed it.Beautiful! Hector felt like doing some warm ups so he strummed a few more tunes and sang a familiar song.

“ You know that feeling? Like there's a song in the air, and it's playing just for you?

A feeling so close, you can reach out and touch it

I never knew I could want something so much but it's true ...,”

“ OYE !” 

The voice made Hector jump out of his seat and accidentally hit the wrong chord. He turned to see his hostess, who had just quickly reappeared from the kitchen. 

“How did you know Ernesto’s song?”

“What do you mean?” Hector asked, blinking his eyes. 

Imelda sighed and walked over to him. “On the day my husband and I met, he sang this song to me and said he wrote it!”

“Que? No, this is my song!” Hector clarified. “I wrote it for a girl whom I used to like, when I was a 14.”

The young woman peeked over the young musician’s shoulder to see the song sheet of that song in the red songbook . Reading the name of its author, it was clear that the author was not her husband but Hector Rivera. 

Her heart sank, her shoulders dropped, and her hands clenched into fists. How could she fall for Ernesto’s trick so easily? 

“Oye, are you okay?” 

Her guest’s voice broke her train of thought. 

“Fine,” she responded with a fake smile. “Just....fine.”

Before he could ask her what’s wrong, Imelda walked back to the kitchen, not wanting to talk about it. 

Hector wondered how Ernesto managed to marry Imelda. Usually all the women his friend had serenaded, were rescued by their fathers. So how did Imelda get trapped by Ernesto this time? Heck, he had no idea that Ernesto wasn’t married! How did that happen? 

“Hmm...I wonder where Ernesto is?”

* * *

Meanwhile, Ernesto was at a saloon bar, dancing wildly, with a loose woman. 

“You are so guapo, señor!” the woman whispered in his ear. “Want to spend the night with me?” 

“Oh yeah....,” Ernesto slurred, wrapping his arm around her waist. It was clear that he had drank too much tequila. They were about to exit together out of the club when they were stopped by Ernesto’s short friend. 

“Move Gustavo!” 

“You cannot go home yet,” Gustavo said. “It’s raining out there!” 

“I am going home,” Ernesto slurred. “With this lovely señorita uh...what your name again?” 

“Oh he is so funny!” his conquest laughed. “Me llamo Camila. But I agree with your friend, it’s too wet outside.”

“Where can we have fun, then?” Ernesto whined, acting like a child.

“Let’s go in the back,” Camila whispered in his ear. 

The drunken man smiled lecherously at the suggestion. “Of course!”

“Man, what is up with you?” Gustavo sighed. “How can you be married and yet sleep with other women?”

“No te entiendo Gustavo,” Ernesto replied, pretending not to hear. “Your question doesn’t make sense. It’s like asking, ‘Ernesto, ants carry food three times their weight, why are tacos so delicious?’ Understand?”

“Uhh...,”

“Yes, that is what I thought, adiós!” Ernesto waved as he walked off with Camila. 

Antonio, who had been sitting nearby heard the conversation and shook his head. He walked over to Gustavo. 

“Doesn’t he realize that Hector Rivera might be here today?”

“Yes, but if we let Ernesto go home and Hector sees him like this, we might lose our songwriter!”

The two men jumped at the sound of thunder. 

“You are right!” Antonino nodded. “Hopefully Hector is at the hotel, by now.”

* * *

“Dinner is ready!” Imelda announced. She carried two plates of chapulines and set them down on the table. 

She was surprised when Hector stood up pulled out a chair for her. Not even Ernesto did that for her. 

After she sat down, she noticed that Hector hadn’t touched his food yet. 

“Why don’t you eat? Is something wrong?” 

“No, I am waiting for you to be seated first, so we can both began eating,” Hector kindly explained. 

“Well, you can start eating now,” the young woman spoke nervously. What if Ernesto was right? What if her guest did find her cooking disgusting? She observed her guest taking his first bite.

“Mmm, these chapulines are delicious!” Hector said, happily. 

“Verdad?” Imelda was so surprised, that she almost dropped her fork. She couldn’t remember the last time someone complimented her.

“Yes!” Hector spoke before taking another bite. After finished chewing and swallowed he added, “These are the best chapulines I have ever had!” 

Imelda was secretly pleased. Ha, take that Ernesto! She thought. I am good at cooking , after all! “Tell me about yourself,” she requested. “Where are you from?” 

“Well, I was born and raised in Santa Cecilia,” Hector summarized. “My mother died when I was a baby and my father died of pneumonia. So I live with my Tío Chicharron and Tía Juanita. In fact, my Tío was the one who taught me how to be a musician...,”

Imelda smiled as she listened to her guest, soaking up his wonderful stories of Santa Cecilia. She learned that he always wanted to be a musician since he as a little boy. Thanks to his Uncle, who had given him lot of training, Hector sang his heart out whenever he was on the plaza. When he is not singing for his friends and family, Hector spent time helping his family tending to their farm. She laughed atHector’s stories, such as the one a it how Chicharron got thrown off his horse and landed in the river. 

For the first time in forever, mealtime was peaceful. Imelda couldn’t remember the last time she had a good time. 

After dinner was over, the woman gathered up the empty, dirty dishes while Hector put his guitar and songbook away. He looked outside. 

“Apparently, it is still raining.”

“No need to worry,” his hostess assured him. “You can sleep in my husband’s room and I will sleep in my bed.”

Hector raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t you two sleep in the same bedroom?”

“Oh please!” Imelda scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We never sleep together ever!”

Hector found it strange that a married couple don’t share a bed together. He wondered why but said nothing because it was not appropriate to ask. He let out a surprised comical sound when Imelda threw a bath towel, a blanket, a pillow, and a toothbrush in his arms. 

“Those are your things for tonight,” she smiled. “Bathroom is open for you.” She yawned, feeling tired. “Well, Buenos Noches!” 

“Buenas Noches!” Hector smiled back. “And gracias for everything!”

“De nada!” 

The two retired to their own rooms-Imelda in her own bedroom and Hector in Ernesto’s room. 

Imelda went to sleep in high spirits. She finally met a friend! 


	8. Imelda and Hector bond/Ernesto has his own secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am not happy with the title but I picked it because I wanted something that would summarize the whole chapter.

Usually Imelda was waken up by Ernesto dumping cold water on her, demanding breakfast. Today, Imelda opened her eyes due to the sun rays shining on her face. For the first time, she felt peace. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept like this before.

After putting on her favorite purple dress, Imelda went to check on her guest. He was still sleeping, snoring softly. Imelda giggled when she noticed that his mouth was slightly open. I’ll wake him up when breakfast is ready, she thought to herself. 

In the kitchen, the young woman whistled a happy tune, cooking beans, eggs, and making tortillas. A smile spread on her face when a sound of a big yawn traveled to her ears. She turned to her head to see Hector walking downstairs with his hair combed and wearing a new outfit. 

“Buenos Días, Hector!” 

“Buenos Días, Imelda,” the guest yawned. He took a seat and sat down by the table. “Gracias for letting me stay here for the night. I didn’t realize how much sleep I really needed!”

“De nada,” Imelda grinned, putting food onto two plates. “I am not surprised. You did have a long trip from Santa Cecilia.” 

“Would you like some help?” Hector asked, getting ready to stand up. Just in case she needed him to fetch something for her or set the table. 

“No, no, no!” Imelda shook her head. “You are my guest! No need to get up!” She carried two plates to the table and placed them down.

“I feel kind of funny sitting here while you do the work,” Hector blushed, awkwardly. 

“No need to feel kind of funny,” Imelda rolled her eyes, playfully. Who was this guy? He had been asking her if she needed help a couple times. Her smile was replaced with a surprise. “Oh, I forgot to grab the silverware!” 

“I got it!” Hector piped up, dashing from his chair. He was oblivious to the annoyed sigh that escaped his host’s lips. The musician pulled out a drawer and picked up two forks and two knives. He brought them to the table and gave one set to Imelda before sitting himself down. 

“How did you know where they were?” Imelda raised an eyebrow.

“You let me set the table last night, remember?” Hector smirked.

The young host put her hand in her face and sighed. “Hector...,”

“I know, I know,” the man said, politely. “I am the guest.” 

The two ate their meals together. Like last night’s dinner, breakfast was peaceful. It was the kind of silence that Imelda found comfortable. 

“So how did you meet Ernesto?” she asked, curiosity striking her. “You two were friends for a long time, correct?”

“Yes,” her guest smiled. “He and I had been friends since we were children. I was in the orphanage for a while after my parents died. When Tío Chicharron and Tía Juanita took me in, they introduced me to the neighbors who had a little boy that needed a friend. That little boy was Ernesto. He was a great friend! Because he was older than me, he looked after me. I can always count on him to save me from bullies. My Tío and Tía never liked that he beaten up other kids for picking on me but I was grateful because he was my only friend. When he left Santa Cecilia, I was disappointed.”

“Por que?”

“He talked about how we were going to become the greatest musicians ever, once we finish school. When he graduated a few years before I did, I thought he would wait for me but then he decided to head on his own. ‘Just to get experience,’ he said. ‘So I would learn the ropes and later come back for you.’ I am glad that he thought of me for his town’s talent show. I think this will give us a chance to show the world how talented we are!”

“That sounds ambitious,” Imelda commented. “Hopefully you will do great!”

“Well, enough about me!” Hector laughed. “How about you?” 

Imelda’s smile dropped. 

“What do you mean?”

“How did you meet Ernesto “

“Oh, you don’t want to know...,”

“Oh, I do!” Hector insisted. He was not the one that would give up on conversations (unless the person really didn’t want him to push it). “I am very curious to know how he captured yourheart!”

“Why are you so curious?” Imelda said, repressively, trying to control the conversation. Perhaps if she could dissuade him from knowing what happened, he would drop it. 

“When you have been friends with someone since childhood, you know a lot about them. Ernesto always tells me everything. Yet, he never told me that he got married, until recently. When did you guys marry?”

“Two years ago,” Imelda answered, stiffly. 

“I was still in high school,” Hector thought. “What was the wedding like? Was it beautiful-“

He stopped when he saw her throwing her forkon the table. It was so loud that it made his nerves jump! 

“No,” Imelda answered, slowly. She began to collect their empty dishes. “There was no wedding or dancing or cake or guests or any of the usual wedding traditions. It was only a ceremony. A short ceremony. A dreadful, short ceremony.”

Hector looked a bit confused and stunned. How could a wedding be dreadful? Weren’t they supposed to be joyful? He wished to say something in response, but no words would form.

Imelda walked away and put dishes in a pile, to be washed later. Wanting to be alone, she went to the counter. She took out cocoa beans and began grounding them. Perhaps a chocolate drink would make her feel better. 

Her ears perked up at her guest following her. 

“Why do you say that?” Hector stood next to her, as if he wanted to offer comfort. 

“Let’s just say we were not in love,” Imelda grumbled. “Never have been, and never will!" After grinding the beans, she put them in a pot of hot water, and wait for it to boil. “It was one of the worst memories of my entire life! And I wish to forget about it!” 

The handsome musician did not know what to say. He wished to say something-anything to comfort his host. After getting over his shock, Hector put a hand on Imelda’s shoulder, provoking her to turn her head to him.

“I wish I have something to say to cheer you up,” he said, sympathetically. 

Although it was hard to see, he could spot a tiny smile on her. Despite liking the touch of his hand, she put it down from her shoulder.

“You don’t need to say anything.” She heard the pot boiling and took the pot off from the fireplace. “Just having you listening to me is all I need!”

Seeing that her hands were full, Hector took out two cups for her. His act of kindness surprised his host. Nevertheless, she smiled and poured chocolate into the cups. 

“Would you like some milk and sugar for your chocolate drink?” she smiled. 

“Sí, por favor!” 

They sat down at their table. After pouring milk and a spoonful of sugar into their chocolate drinks, the two took a sip of their drinks. They relished in the sweetness of them. 

“This is the best chocolate drink I ever had!” Hector complimented. 

Imelda smiled sweetly. Either the chocolate drink made her feel better or sharing it with a new friend did. 

Their moment of peace was interrupted by a loud and rude knocking on the door. 

“Hey Imelda! Open the damn door!” 

“Oh joy,” The woman cringed, knowing who it was. 

“Did he just...?” Hector was stunned. Since when did his best friend always talk to women in that kind of tone? Ernesto liked every woman, always sweet with them. So what’s with him? “I’ll get the door for you,” he offered, standing up before Imelda could protest. 

As he walked to the door, the pounding got louder and louder. 

“Imelda, if you don’t open this door, I will rip your-“

Hector opened the door, and behold, was his best friend with messy hair, and wearing clothes from yesterday. He raised an eyebrow at Ernesto who suddenly, changed his angry facial expression to a joyous one.

“Oh Hola Hector!” Ernesto smiled so big that it looked fake. He pulled him in a man hug that was too tight. Lucky for Hector, he pulled away. “It’s so good to see you! When did you get here?”

“Last night,” Hector wheezed. He had to catch his breath for a minute. “Where were you? You told me to come here because you need me for business.”

“Business?” Ernesto asked, dumbly. He stepped past Hector and went into his house. He strode past Imelda, as if she were a chair-something that did not go unnoticed by Hector. 

“You know, a talent show?” the handsome musician recalled. “Not that I mind your wife’s company, but I came here for business. You wrote to me because you wanted a songwriter for your new act for the talent show!”

Life finally came back to Ernesto’s eyes. “Oh yes, yes, yes! Of course! Ah, I am sorry, my memory is not so good lately.” He grabbed a beer bottle and opened it up. “Beer?”

Hector’s face scrunched up. “No gracias, where were you? You didn’t answer my question.”

“I went to the bar for a drink, because I thought, ‘why not hang around here while waiting for you?’ But then I had too many drinks, lost track of time, and spend a night with...someone because of the rain!” 

“Who did you stay with?” Hector asked.

“Uh, a friend’s house!” Ernesto said sheepishly. “Gustavo? Sorry, my memory is all fuzzy. That is what a drink does to you!”

“Then why are you helping yourself to a beer?” Imelda enquired, standing beside him. She sniffed his shirt. “And why does your shirt smell like lavender?” (Hector had wondered the same question, too after getting a whiff of it when Ernesto hugged him too tight). 

Imelda had a feeling who Ernesto stayed with last night and it was not Gustavo or any other man. But a woman! 

Ernesto’s eyes darted between her and Hector with his smile still plastered on his face. “Would you please excuse me and my wife?” 

He took Imelda by the arm tightly-a but too tight for her and led her upstairs to his bedroom. He closed the door and turned to her with an angry look. 

“Hold your tongue, wench! You know not to speak in a man’s presence! Why didn’t you tell me that Hector was here? Huh? Did you realize that you made me look bad!?”

Imelda shrank back when her husband glared daggers at her. “I-I-I has no way-“

“Shut up and don’t make any excuses, you stupid woman! You should be happy that I married you because what other man would? Now get out and buy me groceries or else I will hit you so hard that you’ll end up in the Land of the Dead!” Afraid that Ernesto might hit her, Imelda ran downstairs, past Hector, grabbed her moneybag and dashed out through the front door.

When Ernesto descended the stairs, he saw that Hector looked confused. “What?”

“What was that all about? She came down looking afraid!” 

Ernesto regained his composure and laughed. “Oh, nothing to worry about!” he lied. “I was just scolding her for not telling me that you just arrived!”

“Why didn’t you respond to her question, Ernesto? You really do smell like lavenders!” 

“Okay, Hector. I was in my drunken stupor when I fell into a flower bed of lavenders. That’s why I smell like lavenders. Now be patient with me, I am still recovering from a hangover. You know how crazy I get when I am drunk!”

Hector, was not sure whether he believed his friend or not. 

“Don’t worry about her, she’s not of your concern!” Ernesto said, flippantly. “Now let us work on our new song! I believe you said you are here for business? I will get dressed and we will go the plaza and meet the rest of the band.” He went upstairs to change, leaving Hector to this his thoughts. 

Hector remembered that he was here for business. But how can he focus when all he could think of was Imelda’s fearful expression? For her sake, he hoped that it was nothing serious. Maybe Ernesto just had too much to drink (and maybe he really did fall into a bed of lavenders).

* * *

After Ernesto had recovered from his hangover, he and Hector arrived at the plaza. Ernesto introduced Hector to his band mates, Gustavo and Antonio. Antonio seemed decent but Gustavo was a bit annoying. The men began to work on the song by writing the song.

“So what type of song do you want me to write?” Hector asked. 

“Glad you asked, Hector!” said Ernesto. “I want a song that would speak to the world. Something that is relatable. Something that shows the love I have for the world!”

“And love for your wife?”

“Love for his wife?” Gustavo sneered. “Hah! Let me tell you something, Hector! They hated each other!”

“It’s not a romantic song,” Antonio clarified. “What Ernesto wants is an appreciation song. To show the world how much he loves singing to them!”

The young man looked a bit disappointed. Ernesto used to always begged him to write a love song for whatever girl he was interested. He thought he would be asked to write a song for Imelda, but oh well. Perhaps his friend has different ideas. 

“Okay, I like the idea but it still needs something to make the song unique,” Hector stated. “What gimmick can we use?”

“That’s where you come in, Hector!” Ernesto exclaimed. “You’re the gimmick! Everything you write, turns into gold!”

* * *

The musicians spent time brainstorming lyrics, with Hector writing them down. 

Afterwards, Hector titled the song, “The World es mi familia.” 

“So what do you think?” he asked the men. 

“I like the title but it still needs more lyrics,” Gustavo commented. 

“The lyrics are fine,” Antonio hand waved . “What we need now is a melody.”

“Hmmm, how about a ballad?” Hector suggested. 

“No, no, no!” Ernesto shook his head. “Ballads put me to sleep! I want a beat that is lively and upbeat. Something that will get people dancing!”

Hours passed, but the men were running out of ideas for a melody that fit Ernesto’s vision. And Gustavo couldn’t come up with any additional lyrics. 

When the sun set, Antonio and Gustavo left for the night. 

“Same time, same place tomorrow?” Hector said.

“Yes, Hector,” they waved goodbye. “Adios!”

“Well, I am going to head to my hotel,” the lanky man made an attempt to go when Ernesto stopped him. 

“What hotel are you staying at?”

“Sol Inn,” Hector replied.

Ernesto’s eyes widened and he began to sweat. “I’m, I have a better idea! Why don’t you stay at my house?”

“Stay at your house?” Hector asked, surprised. 

“Sí, Sí, Sí!” Ernesto smiles, gleefully. “You go and head back to my house! That’s where you’ll be staying for the rest of the trip!”

“But what about your wife? Would she mind-“

“Of course not! She’s desperate for company.”

“But my luggage is there!”

“Never mind about that!” said Ernesto. “I’ll go and pick up your luggage. You go and head on to my house! My wife will be happy to see you!”

Not minding seeing Imelda again, Hector have his hotel keys to Ernesto, knowing that his friend will pick his stuff up. “Thanks for letting me stay at your place,” he thanked him. “Are you sure Imelda won’t mind?”

“Of course!” 

Ernesto watched Hector journey back to his house. Then the bulky man made his way to Sol Inn. He snuck inside the hotel (manager had fallen asleep) and tiptoed into the hallway.

Instead of going to the room that that Hector was supposed to stay, Ernesto went to a room that was across from Hector’s room. He knocked on the door, which revealed a girl was waiting for him. 

“What took you so long?” she purred. 

“No reason, Camila!” Ernesto smirked. He’d have have some pleasure tonight without worrying about his friend finding out and telling Imelda. 

* * *

Imelda spent time in the kitchen cooking dinner. She sighed, feeling tired. She thought about her day today after leaving the house. When she went to the marketplace, she was more than happy to spot her old amigas, Alana, Abril and Amalia. It was so good to see the girls and catch up with them! She learned why she hadn’t seen them forever. Alana was married to a man who never helped around the house. She had to do everything herself! Abril married a man who had a daughter from a previous marriage. She hated being a stepmother because her stepdaughter was evil. As for Amalia, she was married to a man who kept a secret mistress because she couldn’t bear children. 

Imelda had realized that she was not alone. She related to Abril about having a husband that won’t help around. And she could relate to Amalia for having an unfaithful husband. As for Abril-well, thank goodness she didn’t have any stepchildren. Or any children. They might be wicked like Ernesto.  


The girls also expressed sympathy to her when she told them about how awful Ernesto had been.  


“You should tell your parents how he’s been mistreating you!” Abril exclaimed.  


“You should be telling the priest!” Amalia piped up. “If you can prove that Ernesto abused you, you can get a divorce!”  


As much as Imelda would like a divorce from Ernesto, she was unsure. The whole town would not believe her that Ernesto was abusivo. They would either laugh and say, “Ernesto is not that bad!” The Priest would not believe her because Ernesto always showed up at Catholic masses to make himself look good. Everybody thought of him to a wonderful Catholic boy. And her parents would never allow her to divorce because they just got her married and being a divorced woman was as damaging as being a woman who became pregnant out of wedlock, even if the baby was stillborn. Maybe she should just do what her friends do: cry privately and pray for the best. Once she heard the door knocking, Imelda opened the door and there stood the guy who had brightened her day.

“Buenos Noches Imelda!” Hector

smiled shyly which she found it cute.

“Buenos Noches Hector!” 

She let him inside the house. 

“Forgive me for intruding but your husband insisted that I stay here for the night instead of the hotel-if that is all right. With you?” 

“Of course, you can stay!” Imelda assured him. “Don’t be a stranger! Better to stay here than at the hotel!” She gestured him to follow her into the dining table. “Come, I am makingdinner.”

“Ernesto should be here with my luggage, in case you are wondering where he-“

“I know where he is,” Imelda frowned. “At the hotel.”

“Sí, he is fetching my luggage!”Hector snapped his fingers, happily. “It’s like we are thinking the same thing!”

Imelda sighed. She knew what Ernesto was doing at the hotel, and it had nothing to do with his luggage. Shaking her head, Imelda focused on putting food in the pot.

While waiting for dinner to cook, Imelda took her seat and sat beside Hector. She observed him writing and editing the notes for “the World is Mi Familia.”

“How is the song coming?” 

“Oh, it is all right,” Hector sighed, putting his pencil down. He leaned back in his chair, feeling an artist’s block. “I cannot think of a good melody.”

“May I take a look at it?” Imelda proposed. 

Hector was surprised but he nodded. He could use help right now.


	9. Improving the song together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a continuation from where the previous chapter left off.  
> Imelda helps Hector improve the song.

A Family Dysfunction chapter 9

“So what do you need help with on this song?” Imelda asked. With permission, she took the paper and read it carefully.

“Well, first of all, I can’t think of a good melody for the song,” Hector replied, slouching in his chair, his countenance full of mild stress. “I had proposed many ideas of a melody but none of them suited your husband’s vision.”

“What is his vision?” Imelda enquired. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. If Ernesto was so good at coming up with ideas for songs, why didn’t he write them down? That way, he wouldn’t have to force this poor songwriter to do all the work. 

“Well, he wants something that is upbeat,” Hector recalled. “Something that can get people dancing.” He snapped his fingers and sat up straight. “Oh, and what do you think of the lyrics? Gustavo thinks we need more words but Antonio believes they are fine. But you tell me. What do you think?” A cloud lifted from his brow as he talked of his lyrics. 

Imelda re-read the song carefully. Then shescrambled for a red pen from the small desk and began crossing. She was crossing so much that she didn’t hear an astonished songwriter asking what she was doing. Imelda handed the paper back to Hector full of red cross outs, much to his dismay. 

“It is not very good” the woman critiqued. “It is no good enough for you guys to perform for the show. You must start writing all over again.”

“But it will take forever!” the songwriter ejaculated. He slouched as he looked at his paper, finally realizing how sloppy the words sounded. “And we are going to perform soon!” He groaned, trailing his big hand from his head to chin, leaving his hair unkempt. The song may be poorly written but it was going to take him a long time to write a new draft! He jolted when a delicate small hand was placed on top of his other big hand. 

“Then, we will get started right away,” she responded, calmly. “Let’s break it down to baby steps. First, we will write down the words and then, we will write the melody.” Realizing that her hand was still on his rough but warm hand, she quickly pulled it away. “So, let’s get started!” 

* * *

While the dinner, Hector and Imelda work on the song together by brainstorming new lyrics. Hector wrote downs based on his idea sand. Imelda’s. Mostly Imelda’s ideas. Hector knew that the song should be about: a singer’s dedication to the world for listening to him sing. He and Imelda both agreed that the song should still be called, “the World es Mi Familia.” After writing the final draft, the last step to figure out was the melody. What should the melody be for the song? Hector thought of a bunch of ideas for it such as ragtime and classical but nothing clicked for him. It was Imelda who suggested a style inspired by Huapango. The songwriter brightened up at the idea. It didn’t take him long to write down the musical notes for it.

“Now we need to test this song,” the musician smiled, reading his paper. “With my old trusty guitar!”

He strummed the lyrics to his song. When the song was finished, he was so happy with it that, he let out a grito.

“Aha, this is so perfecto!” 

“Aren’t you glad I helped you?” Imelda smirked. 

“Yes, yes!” He shouted. He bounced on the air and pulled a gasping woman into his arms for a great big hug. “Oh Muchas gracias! Muchas gracias!!” 

“De nada,” Imelda stuttered, still stunned by the physical contact. She stayed in his arms for a long time.

Realizing what he was doing, Hector pulled away from Imelda and cleared his throat. 

“Um, gracias...the boys would surely love it!”

I’ll...check on the dinner,” the hostess said awkwardly. When she went into the kitchen, she took a few deep breaths. Imelda scolded herself mentally to relax, it was just a hug. Then again, it felt so nice to be hugged. The woman couldn’t remember the last time she had been hugged. Her parents were the last people to hug her before her treacherous wedding. Shaking her head, Imelda thought it was just a hug. 

When Imelda carried two plates of chapulines, Hector offered to take one plate form her. His fingertips accidentally brushed her hand when he took his plate for her. This second physical contact caused them to blush, as well. After sitting down, the two ate their dinner in silence.

* * *

“Is Ernesto here with my luggage?” Hector asked, concerned. He and Imelda had just finished cleaning up after dinner. “How am i supposed to go to bed if I don’t have my pajamas and toothbrush?” 

It was time for bed and Hector was concerned that Ernesto still hadn’t come back with his belongings. 

“How long does it take to fetch my stuff?”

“Don’t worry, Hector,” his hostess assured him.“I have Ernesto’s spare pajamas which you can wear and I have a brand new toothbrush that I just bought.”

“Gracias, Imelda but I don’t want to trouble you. I’ll just sleep in my clothes and skip brushing my teeth.”

the woman scowled, left the guest room and came back with the spare pajamas and a brand new toothbrush. She shoved them into her guest’s arms who yelped a comical “oof!”

“Imelda, are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“It’s fine, I don’t need-“

“Ah, ah, ah!” Imelda shook her finger at him. “There is no way I am letting you go to bed naked and with a stinky breath! Ahora vete a la cama!”

She closed the door, making Hector jump.

“Aww, no goodnight kiss?” He whined, like a child who didn’t get a cookie. The songwriter was surprised when his door cracked a bit open. 

“Buenos Noches!” Imelda smiled.

Then she closed the door.

“Buenos Noches,” Hector smiled softly. As much as he liked being independent, it felt nice to have someone look out for you. Shaking his head with a smile, the songwriter retired to bed. 


	10. Héctor suspects something

“Oye, Ernesto, dónde has estado?”

It was early morning when Hector woke up. When he went into the kitchen to make himself a chocolate drink, he was surprised to see his best friend sitting at the table and reading a newspaper. Annoyance appeared Hector’s countenance. 

It was about time his friend finally came home! The songwriter had worrying fretfully about his belongings!

Ernesto smiled sheepishly at his friend’s question. “Oh you know, just out and partying at a party that was held at Sol Inn.”

“Well, did you get my luggage?” Hector demanded, frowning that Ernesto carried nothing. And what party?

“Luggage?” The bulky man seemed distracted. Before his friend could remind me, Ernesto’s eyes brightened with life. “Oh yes! It’s by the door!” He nodded his head there where Hector’s suitcase had been lying. It looked as if someone had dropped it unceremoniously late at night. 

“I thought I heard a bumping sound last night,” Hector grumbled. Although he was relieved that he and his belongings are no longer separate, he wished that Ernesto retrieved it for him sooner than later. He put the suitcase in his guest room and came back to the kitchen. He checked on the chocolate drink, which was ready. He poured it into two cups. “Would you like some?”

“No gracias,” said Ernesto. “I don’t like sweets!” He straightened up as if he were giving a speech. “Like I said earlier, I went to the hotel and saw there was a grand party! Ah, you hound have seen it! There was food, dancing, and wine! And lots of pretty girls-“

“Pretty girls?” Hector raised an eyebrow. 

“For you! Uh, I mean I saw some girls that I thought would make a nice wife for you! Uh, anyway, I found your suitcase but I was so tired from partying that I had no choice but to sleep for the night!”

The songwriter had a strange feeling that something was not adding up. He knew that his friend was a party animal, that was true. But it shouldn’t have taken that long to get his suitcase. “Well, it shouldn’t take you that omg to get my belongings! I had feared that someone may have stole it!” The songwriter took a sip of his chocolate drink, enjoying the savory taste.

“Oh nonsense!” Ernesto spoke, carelessly. “There was nothing in your suitcase worth stealing! Who would want to steal pink underwear?”

“Oye!” Héctor jolted at that comment, almost spilling his drink.

“Just saying,” Ernesto responded colorlessly. 

“Anyway, let’s get ready to meet the boys. We have a rehearsal to do!”

“Yes, let’s go!” Hector nodded in agreement. After drinking the remains of his chocolate drink, he wrote a quick note by the second cup that had been untouched. Perhaps Imelda can have the second cup. Last, the songwriter grabbed his guitar. “I have the song ready for you and it has a great a melody!” 

* * *

At the plaza, Hector pulled out his new and improved song. “Here it is, amigos!” He announced and tuned his guitar. “I think you are going to like it!” 

He strummed the guitar and began to sing. 

“ _Señoras y señores_

_ Buenas tardes, buenas noches _

_ Buenas tardes, buenas noches _

_ Señoritas y señores _

_ To be here with you tonight brings me joy, que alegria _

_ For this music is my language, and the world es mi familia _

_ For this music is my language, and the world es mi familia _

_ For this music is my language _

_ And the world es mi familia _

_For this music is my language_...,”

When Hector finished the song, he asked the astonished men, “So, what do you think?” 

Butterflies filled his stomach. Usually whenever he writes a song, Ernesto would always tell him to redo it about five times until it becomes “marketable,” as his friend put it. 

“I think this song is....Spectacular! Haha, Hector you did it again!” Ernesto boomed. He and the guys jumped in the air andlet out a bunch of gritos. The muscled man gave Hector a big man hug, which was a relief to the lanky man. “Like I told you before, everything you touch turns into gold!”

“This song will help us win the show’s prize!” Gustavo cheered, twirling his violin.

“How did you come up with the melody?” Antonio beseeched. “Last time we worked on this song, we all struggled with it-even you!”

“Oh glad you asked!” Hector beamed. “I received a lot of help from someone. And let me tell you, she had great ideas!”

“Oh, and who is the name of this muse of yours?” Ernesto enquired. 

“Imelda!” said Hector, innocently.

“My...wife!?” Ernesto raised an eyebrow. 

“No manches!” Antonio and Gustavo exclaimed. 

“She does sound brilliant!” Antonio added.

“Maybe she should be the leader of the band, instead of her husband!” Gustavo teased Ernesto. 

“Didn’t you know Imelda knew how to write music?” Hector asked. He noticed that his friend did not share the same pride and joy that he and the others did. Did his face look agitated? 

“No,” Ernesto frowned. “And I don’t care!” he muttered the last part underneath his breath.

The men began practicing their song. They had so much fun, that it drew several people who were passing by. Nobody noticed that Ernesto had been scowling the whole time-even when many girls showed up and swooned over him and Hector. 

* * *

After cooking lunch, Imelda had been spending time reading her favorite book,  Anna Karenina , when she heard the door knocking. 

When she opened it, she yelled when her handsome guest swept her into his arms. 

“Imelda, they loved it!” 

It took a while for Imelda to process what he was talking about. “Do you mean your song?”

“Yes, yes!” Hector laughed, putting Imelda gently as if she were made of glass. “I played it for the band and they loved it! During the rehearsal we drew a crowd, didn’t we Ernesto?” He turned to his silent friend at the last part. “Oh, we are so going to win! I can smell the prize money already-OW!” Hector yelled at the last word and rubbed the back of his head. 

“Don’t get so cocky yet, músico,” Imelda smirked, holding her shoe. “You guys still need to practice!”

The lanky songwriter turned to his beautiful hostess with a sheepish smile. “I know but I am very excited about this song! Aren’t you excited too, Ernesto?”

“Sí,” the bulky man had a very big smile plastered on his face. “Very excited. Imelda, may I talk to you alone?”

Dread filled in Imelda’s stomach. What did she do this time? 

“Whatever you want to say to Imelda, you can say it in front of me,” Hector spoke kindly.

“It’s my house and I do what I want, Hector,” Ernesto said through clenched teeth. 

Hector frowned and raised an eyebrow at Ernesto’s reaction. “Um all right...whatever you say,” he sighed. He stood awkwardly in the kitchen as Ernesto took his wife aside and dragged her to his bedroom. 

When Ernestoclosed the door shut, the bulky man turned to Imelda. His face was very hardened and turning pink. 

“Listen Imelda,” he growled. “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?” 

“What are you talking about?” the young woman spoke angrily. She was frightened but she tried to be angry so that Ernesto wouldn’t see how scared she truly was.

“HOW DARE YOU PUT YOUR NOSE IN THINGS WHERE THEY DO NOT BELONG!” Ernesto bellowed. “I WANT TO BE KNOWN AS THE GUY THAT HELPED HECTOR WITH THE SONG, NOT SOME BRAINLESS HOUSEWIFE!!”

“Rubbish!” Imelda huffed. “Hector asked me for help! Otherwise, I wouldn’t ‘put my nose in things where they don’t belong!’”

“YOU ARE NOT A MUSICIAN! I AM! THE MEN LAUGHED AT ME FOR LETTING YOU HELP!! YOU MADE ME LOOK BAD! I DO NOT WANT TO BE KNOWN AS THE GUY WHISE WIFE FID ALL THE WORK!! HECTOR AND I ARE THE MUSICIANS, NOT YOU!”

* * *

“What’s going on?” Hector was still standing there awkwardly wondering what was going on upstairs. He thought he and Ernesto were going to have lunch with Imelda-and later practice in the afternoon until 4:30pm. So what’s the hold up? The songwriter became concerned when he heard loud voices. The loud voices went on for a long time. Thirty minutes later, Ernesto stomped out of the door and down the steps. “I’m getting a drink!” 

“Ernesto, what-“

“CÁLLATE HÉCTOR!!” The man screamed, opening the door. He slammed the door so loud that a nearby painting fell off the wall. Hector cringed at the noise of the door and of the painting crashing to the floor.

“What just happened?” 

Héctor walked upstairs to check on Imelda. She was still in the bedroom, with her arms crossed and looking at the floor. 

“Imelda?” the lanky man implored nervously. “Que pasó?” 

Imelda kept her eyes on the floor. She blinked her eyes continuously. “Nada.”

Héctor was not fooled by Imelda’s reply. Her tone suggested that there was something that bothered her. 

“Are you sure?” 

Imelda whipped her head with glistening eyes narrowed at him. “I SAID NOTHING!”

“All right, all right!” Héctor yelped. He jumped back from her, holding his hands up in defense. “I am sorry.” He didn’t mean to push her. 

Imelda’s eyes softened a bit at his apology. “That’s okay.” She moved past the songwriter and headed to her bedroom. “I am going to clean my bed. Your lunch is on the table.” Then she locked the door. 

Now that she was all alone, sitting on her bed, Imelda can release tears from her eyes. 

“Nobody cares about me,” she mumbled. “Not one.”

* * *

Nobody cares about her? 

Unbeknownst to her, Hector had heard her weeping. He felt his heart sinking at Imelda’s self-defeating words. The songwriter wished he really knew what happened behind doors. His best friend was angry and his new friend sounded hurt. He should get to the bottom of this problem. That is, if they’re willing to talk to him.


	11. Hector wants to help

After lunch, Héctor went back the plaza to practice music. It wasn’t easy for him to immediately to leave due to Imelda still up in her bedroom. The songwriter wished more than anything he could comfort her but it was clear that she wanted to be alone. Perhaps if he gave her space to calm down, then maybe she will open up to him. But only when she’s ready. At the plaza, Héctor only saw Gustavo and Antonio, who had been waiting for him. 

“Well, it’s about time you finally came back!” Gustavo barked. “I thought you ditched us!”

The songwriter rolled his eyes at the short man’s dramatics. “Is Ernesto here?”

“No,” Antonio responded confused. “Wasn’t he with you?”

“He was,” Héctor nodded. “But then he stormed out of the house after having a private talk with Imelda.” He shuddered when he remembered the yelling noises.

“Really?” Gustavo asked. “What for? Did he say where he was going?”

“I don’t know where he went,” Héctor shrugged. “Just said he was going for a drink!”

The other men slapped their hands on their foreheads.

“Oh no, what are we going to do?” They groaned. “If he is not here, we can’t practice! And if we can’t practice, we’ll lose our prize money!”

The songwriter thought of what would be best for them. 

“Then, I guess we’ll have to practice without him.” He shrugged his shoulders because he was not sure what else to do.

* * *

After five hours of playing music, Héctor bade the band goodbye and went looking for Ernesto. He asked people around if they had ever seen his best friend. 

Citizens of Pátzcuaro, directed him to a bar where they knew Ernesto would be usually hanging out: the Spirits Bar.

* * *

Héctor didn’t mind going to bars, as long as it was filled with people who just wanted a drink and socialize. Bonus points, if it has a live band. But the Spirits Bar had a different environment,that was filled with people who like to get drunk. As the songwriter took a couple steps in, he was approached by a waitress whose low cut dress showed off her cleavage. 

“Hola Guapo! Would you like a drink?” In her platter was a bottle of tequila and a glass. 

“No gracias,” Héctor smiled, politely. As much as he loved the taste of tequila, he wasn’t thirsty. “I am looking for my friend, Ernesto de la Cruz. Have you seen him?” 

“What does he look like?”

“A big bulky man with a mustache and a cleft chin.”

“Oh, he’s by the table over there,” the waitress answered, nodding her head to the left. Hector’s eyes darted to her direction, where his best friend sat on a stool by the table. 

“Gracias, Senorita.”

The songwriter made his way to the table and sat on a stool beside Ernesto, who had been twirling his straw in his drink.

Ernesto glanced up at Héctor and then turned back to his drink.

“Oye, Ernesto,” the songwriter piped up. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Why do you ask?” 

“Well, you didn’t come back to rehearsal, 

and we became worried.” His friend did not respond but only took a big sip from his drink. Héctor swallowed at the uncomfortable silence, before proceeding. “Is something wrong?”

“Geez, what do you think?” The older musician said bitterly as he slammed he drink down on the table. He turned to his friend. “Think, Héctor! Do I look miserable to you?” 

“Um...yes?” Héctor shrugged, nervously.

“Good job for figuring it out, Héctor!” Ernesto said sarcastically as he clapped his hands. “Wow, you really are smart!”

Héctor rolled his eyes. 

“Stop with the dry humor Ernesto, and tell me what you’re pissed about!” 

“Oh I’ll tell you what I’m pissed about!” Ernesto grumbled. “It’s Imelda!” He signaled a bartender (by snapping his fingers, which annoyed the bartender) to pour him another drink in his glass. 

“Your wife?”

“No, the Tsar of Russia,” Ernesto drawled, sipping his drink. 

“What does the the Tsar have to do with-“ 

Héctor jumped when Ernesto slammed his glass on the table.

“Of course, it’s Imelda, you fricking dumbass!” 

Ernesto made eye contact with the songwriter. His eyes were so dark that it made Héctor shiver. “You don’t know how impossible my wife is, Héctor!” the large man continued. “She is a bruja who is always ruining everything! Her interference with our song will ruin my chance to win at the talent show!”

”Um, how?” The songwriter quizzed. “What’s wrong with that?”

”If people find out that she helped you, instead of me, they will laugh at me! It would be a great insult to me! My reputation as a musician is important! You understand, right?”

His words didn’t leave an impression on Héctor. Instead of sympathizing with him, the songwriter looked a bit disappointed. “That’s...it? That’s what got you bellyaching about? Your reputation?”

“It’s more than that!” Ernesto ejaculated. 

“My stupid wife is always interfering with my music just because I do not practice enough or like to show off! Doesn’t she have any faith in me? Doesn’t she see the true talent in me? What’s wrong with wanting fame? Doesn’t she understand that I am meant for greatness? Doesn’t she understand how important is my reputation? I am sick and tired of her yelling and nagging! And if Imelda is not belittling my music, she nags at me to help her with chores all because I “never help her at all!’ Boo hoo hoo! I am a man, not a woman! I shouldn’t have to help her with petty housewife work! And, she’s the one to talk! She lays around doing nothing except weeping, and her cooking stinks!” He paused to take another sip from his drink. “You do not know what it is like to live with such an intemperate woman!”

“I have,” Héctor said slowly. “RememberProfesora Gómez? It took me forever to score higher than 70% on her math tests, no matter how hard I studied!” 

“Oh, the school teacher? No, no, no,” Ernesto chuckled and shook his head. “Teachers are supposed to be very strict, so it makes sense for Professora Gómez to act like that. But wives are supposed to be quiet and obedient, not shrewish and disobedient! Their job is to satisfy men and produce sons-and Imelda has utterly failed at that!” 

Héctor felt his stomach churning at his friend’s repulsive tongue. If only he had the courage to speak up and defend Imelda! Usually he doesn’t take sides, but secretly, Héctor was on Imelda ‘s side. The problem was if he dared to speak up and defend her, Ernesto might get furious. And he didn’t not want to see Ernesto get angry. More than he already was right now. 

“Are you sure what you said is true?” 

“Of course, it is true!” the bulky man snapped. “You believe me, don’t you?”

The songwriter didn’t believe Ernesto. He had recalled him saying ugly things at the door on his first day here. Or how Imelda always looked afraid every time Ernesto pulled her aside for a conversation. Not to mention that Ernesto never acknowledged his wife which lined up with Imelda’s early comment on how they were never in love.

“Look,” Hector replied, avoiding the question. “Even if your wife edited my song, there is no reason for you to act so sour. Who cares who helped me with the song? Either way, we’ll still win as long as we practice! The crowd won’t know who we got help from. I’ll just say I wrote it. Would that make you feel better?” All he got was silence from his best friend. He stood up, planning to possess the drink away from the large man. “Hey, let me take you home.” 

But Ernesto snatched his glass and viciously growled at his friend with gnashing teeth. 

“Ah, you know what?” Héctor smiled sheepishly. He backed away with his hands up. “Good talking to you. Stay at the Sol Inn until you are sober. You know how to get home, right?”

Ernesto just continued to growl.

“Great! Lasta vista!” The songwriter dashed out of the bar, as quick as the lightning bolt.

* * *

Imelda had dried her eyes after some time of weeping. After crying, she went out shopping and bought more food for dinner. While frying crickets, Imelda’s thoughts rested on her guest. She hoped that her guest didn’t hear her. If he did, then she’d be forced to spill the beans and he would react the same way that other people had. “Ernesto is right and you’re wrong!” the people would always say. “You deserve it!” is another thing they would also add. 

Imelda hated that her so-called husband yelled at her for “interfering.” Her guest needed help and since Ernesto wasn’t around, how could she deny her impulse to assist him? 

Perhaps Ernesto didn’t care to know but she too, loved music. As a little girl, she was a member of a church choir. Some kids used to tease her for being an alto but the choir director, Sister Sara had encouraged her to sing her heart out. When Imelda had complained that there were no solos for alto girls like her, Sister Sarah responded by doing research. When she couldn’t find them either, the nun taught Imelda how to write music. The girl was able to produce songs that suited her vocal range. 

When she wasn’t singing in choir or writing music, Imelda would go out dancing at the plaza with her friends. Too bad, on one of those evenings, she was “stolen” by Ernesto. 

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock of the door.

Her heart leapt at the sight of her handsome guest. 

Héctor walked inside, fidgeting with his fingers.When she asked him what was wrong, he stayed silent. Only continue to fidget. She coaxed him to answer. 

The songwriter swallowed and sighed. He informed Imelda that her husband may not be coming home tonight. 

“I am not surprised,” Imelda sighed, shaking her head. She went back to the kitchen to check on dinner. 

“What do you mean?” The songwriter was a bit appalled. He almost dropped his guitar. Good thing, he caught it. He leaned it against the wall so that nobody would trip over it. “How often does this happen?”

“Oh, almost every day,” the woman said in a flippant tone. She laid chapulines on two plates and served them at the table. Forks were already laid out so Hector didn’t need to retrieve them. They sat down together while Imelda continued talking. “I am relieved that I do not have to see his face but...I feel...lonely.”

“Do you go out?” Héctor asked, after swallowing his food. “Do you have any amigas?”

“Yes,” Imelda responded. “I go out to the marketplace, almost every day. I have amigas but it’s hard for me to see them because they are also married-I am only lucky when they are also at the marketplace.” 

“What about your family?”

The songwriter’s question filled Imelda with sadness. She replied, “No.” 

“When was the last time you saw them?”

Good question Héctor, Imelda thought. When was the last time she ever saw her family? She missed her old life in which her family was part of it. Sometimes the woman wondered if they missed her too. Her mother surely must have thought of her dearly. Her father might have been angry with her, but she had prayed that he would forgive her. Her eyes turned wistful of her brothers. Have Oscar and Felipe remember her (and haven’t played any pranks on their school teacher)? Her eyes filled with water but she quickly wiped them with a cloth. “What does it matter? They won’t see me. They haven’t written anything to me-not even a telegram! I have a funny feeling that they don’t care about me!” She threw her cloth on the table in frustration. 

The woman jumped when Héctor clasped her hand into his big hands and gave it a little squeeze. Imelda noticed how warm and tender his hands were. She relished the comfort of it. When was the last time anyone had held her hand? Her mother and father used to hold her hand for comfort. Her brothers used to hold her hand when crossing the street. Back when she was single and free. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get through this,” Héctor’s words felt like a caress. So sweet and gentle. 

“How?” She asked hopelessly. 

“Maybe I can help you with chores. I can help you do housework, grocery shopping, and anything you need help with!”

“Are you sure?” Imelda slightly frowned. “I feel funny putting my guest to work.” And he was already helpful. Setting the table, making his bed, and brewing chocolate drinks. He is the only man that is truly helpful.

“Absolutely!” Hector smiled, like a child wanting to go to the park. 

Imelda filled her eyes good-naturally. “All right, I am going shopping tomorrow. If you have time off, you can help me carry groceries.”

“Great!” said the songwriter. “I have time off tomorrow so I will come with you!”

For once, Imelda felt that she made a friend.


	12. Talent scout and Marketplace

The next morning, Hector walked with Imelda to the marketplace. The woman was glad to have company with her. It felt nice to have someone carry whatever food she couldn’t fit into her basket. 

A few friends had taken notice of the new companion of Imelda’s.

“Hola Imelda!” Abril greeted, while browsing for apples.

“Quiénes él?” Amalia asked, eyeing Hector.

“This is Héctor Rivera,” Imelda introduced. “He is my friend.”

“Buenos días,” the songwriter responded, shyly.

Oh, he’s handsome!” Amalia flashed her eyelashes at him.

“Alana!” Alana hissed at her. “You’re married!”

“That doesn’t mean I cannot look!” 

“Ignore them, Héctor,” Abril assured the nervous man. “They’re just loco. So how did you two meet?”

“I’m a friend of Ernesto’s,” said Héctor. “He invited me here to perform an act with him for the musical talent show.”

“He’s been staying at my house as a guest,” Imelda added. 

“Oh yes, I have seen you practice at the plaza, while strolling by!” Alana recalled. “You were great!”

“One of the best!” Amalia piped up. 

“Gracias,” Héctor blushed, not used to compliments. 

“Oye, are you single?” Alana asked, randomly. “I have a sister who would be good for you-“

Imelda enclosed Héctor’s hand, with a bit of possessiveness. “As much we love to stay and talk, we have to go! We have a big dinner to prepare! Good day, ladies!” The songwriter waved back quickly, before turning around and leaving with his hostess. 

The girls looked as if they just saw a carriage crash.

“Dios Míos, did you see the way she grabbed his hand?” Alana whispered to Amalia. 

“You don’t think he’s her secret lover, do you?” Amalia whispered back.

“Girls, girls, girls!” Abril calmed them down. “You’re jumping to conclusions. I am sure it is nothing.”

“Don’t you find that suspicious, Abril?”

“Yes Amalia, but you know how protective Imelda can be of those who are close to her.”

“They just met!” Alana reminded them.

“Still, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Her reputation is already ruined. Let’s should find more information of this first. And then we can say something to her!”

The other girls nodded, agreeing with Abril.

“If they are secret lovers, hopefully, Ernesto doesn’t find out!” Alana shivered. 

* * *

“Ernesto, where did you go last night?” 

The songwriter hadn’t seen his friend since yesterday. He was so drunk that he didn’t think he would show up to rehearsal. He must have gotten sober quickly than expected ted or else he wouldn’t be here. 

“Oh I stayed at Gustavo and Antonio’s place,” the best friend answered in is smooth voice. 

“No, you didn’t-OW!” Gustavo screeched when the bulky man stomped on his toe. He didn’t want Gustavo to spill the beans of where he really stayed. “Er, I mean yes, that is true!”

“Okay...,” Hector said , not sure why his friend stomped on the shirt man’s foot. “Well now that rehearsal is over and you’re sober, let us walk back home to Imelda.”

“No, Héctor!” Ernesto declined. “I have a meeting with someone at Sol Inn.”

“Por qué, ‘Nesto?” Hector questioned. “Where are you sneaking off to this time?”

“Okay,” Ernesto said. He gathered the rest of the band together. “Last night at the bar, I happened to meet a talent scout!”

“A talent scout?” the men asked, astonished.

“No, The Queen of Hearts-of course I met a talent scout, idiotas! This talent scout, Señor Andre Molina, said he had heard of my-our musical talents and wants to see us play. I told Señor Molina to come and see us play in the talent show which is right around the corner. Señor Molina said that if we played well and win the money prize, he will get us a record deal! But if not, then he will pick someone else! So we got to really win this show, boys! It’s our only ticket to our dream!”

The other men shared looks of apprehension. They didn’t feel the same excitement that their leader shared. 

“Ernesto, why did you have to invite him?” Héctor cried. “I don’t know about you amigos, but having a talent scout watching us, will make me nervous! And I am not skilled enough enough to play in front of him! What if I mess up?”

“Don’t be such a wimp, Héctor,” the bulky man scoffed. “Be a man! You will do fine, as long as you practice. Just don’t mess it up-perform as of your life depends on it!”

“I thought this was supposed to be fun!” Antonio added. 

Gustavo nodded.

The two shrank back when their leader growled so loud that it reminded them of a tiger.

“Don’t start with me!” The leader regained his composure and spoke firmly. “We Just have to work a bit extra harder! Practice for two more hours and then we’ll be fine, COMPREHENDE??”

The other men quickly nodded their heads.

“Bueno, bueno,” Ernesto nodded. “Now let the music begin!” That was their cue to practice. Looks like dinner would have to wait because they would be at the plaza practicing for two more hours. 

* * *

For the next couple of days, it was the same routine for Hector. Help Imelda with chores in the morning and then after lunch, practice music with the band until 7pm instead of the usual 5pm. 

One day at the marketplace, Imelda and Héctor were browsing for peppers, when Imelda spotted familiar faces from afar at the organs stand. Their backs were turned but when they turned their heads sideways to pick up oranges at the orange stand, the woman identified their faces. Two identical boys, about 13, sporting glasses. 

“Oscar? Felipe?” she dared to whisper.

When one of the boys started to turn around, the woman quickly ducked, pulling Hector down with her by grabbing his collar. As long as they were hiding behind the pepper stand, the boys could not see them. 

“Did you hear something Oscar?” One boy asked. 

“I thought I heard someone calling my name!” Felipe answered. “And your name too!”

“I didn’t hear my name!” 

“You need to get your ears checked!” 

“My ears are fine! It’s  your ears that need to get checked!”

“Boys!” A kind feminine voice called to them. The woman and her husband hurried over to their children.

“Let’s go, boys,” said Martha. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

“Okay Mama!” the boys chirped. 

As the family began to walk away, Imelda quietly tiptoed after them, still hidden behind the fruit stands. Hector followed closely behind her. 

“Papa, something weird happened!” said Felipe. 

“We heard someone calling our names!” Oscar chimed.

“Quién?” Francisco asked. 

“We don’t know!” They shrugged. 

Francisco rolled his eyes. “Then why bother telling me this story?” 

“We don’t know!”

Francisco squeezed the bridge of his nose with his two fingers, already feeling a headache appearing. 

“Did you recognize the voice?” Martha questioned, patiently. 

“It sounded like hermana!” Felipe said.

“No manches!” Oscar exclaimed. 

“Boys, I never want you to mention that girl ever again!” Francisco spoke harshly. “The girl is dead to me!”

“Francisco!” Martha chided. 

“I don’t want my sons to be corrupted by her bad influence!” 

The young woman and the songwriter had stopped at the last fruit stand, eavesdropping on the family until the voices became too distant for them to hear. 

Imelda shook and quickly wiped tears away from her eyes. She felt a hand comforting her shoulder.

“Who were those people, Imelda?”

“Mi familia, Héctor,” the woman spoke, her voice tightened. 

“Why didn’t you say Hola to them?”

“And get shooed away?” Imelda chuckled bitterly. “You heard what my father said. I am dead to him. My father forbade my brothers to see me, and I am not allowed to see them!” 

“Your father forbade your brothers to see you?”

“Yes.”

“And your father also forbade you from seeing them?”

“Yes. And he’s not the only one.”

“Who else is keeping you from seeing your family?”

“Ernesto.”

Aye Caramba! Héctor thought, gulping. Is there more to Imelda’s terrible situation? Why in the world is she isolated from those she loved? 


	13. Meeting Pepita

Héctor took Imelda from shopping, carrying her groceries. 

“Thanks for everything you do, Héctor,” the woman spoke softly. If her voice was still full of melancholy upon seeing her family, she concealed it. To cry in front of Hector or anyone was the worst thing she could do. As long as she blinked her eyes, no tear shall cascade from them.

“De nada,” Héctor answered, placing groceries down inside the kitchen. He felt a bit weary from all that walking and tiptoeing around. Head lifted up, his eyes laid on the troubled woman.

“Imelda, are you all right?”

The question threw Imelda off. No one has ever asked her in a long time of her well-being. “I’m fine,” she said, annoyed. Trying to divert herself, the woman walked outside to the well. “I am going to get water from the well,” her voice stated unemotionally. She was aware that her guest had followed her but she acted as if she didn’t cared or noticed. When Imelda reached the well, there was a pail hanging over it, supported by a rope. Imelda lowered the bucket into the well. The job was very difficult but it was a task that she had been used to doing it by herself because no one would help her. Especially Ernesto. The woman was bemused when her guest willingly, assisted her in pulling the rope. 

“Why haven’t you been in contact with your family?” Hector asked, his voice straining. “And why did they refuse to see you?” 

Imelda continued pulling the rope. She was doing it better than Hector whose strength wasn’t as great as hers. “I committed a sin!” Her voice strained.

“What sin?”

“Having a baby out of wedlock!” Imelda yanked at the rope.

“Que?” Héctor squeaked, with his voice raised an octave higher than usual. He was so shocked that he almost lost his grip on the rope. Lucky for him, Imelda finished pulling the heavy pail of water. After regaining his composure, Hector made no hesitation to help his hostess carry the bucket. 

The two carried the object inside the house and set it down in the kitchen. The songwriter was so exhausted from all the heavy lifting and carrying that he collapsed on the floor. Imelda rolled her eyes at the display before continuing her story). 

“When Ernesto and I met at the plaza, I didn’t know what to expect. I was just having fun with my girlfriends by engaging in dancing. After my friends left, I stayed a bit longer. By the time I decided to finally go home, Ernesto approached me. We started talking.” the young woman paused, mustering the strength to carry on. “I don’t know what happened when he invited me to his house. One minute, I was drinking tequila with him, and the next minute...I woke up laying next to him!”

Héctor’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Judging from her subtlety, he had a dreadful feeling of what took place.

“Then the next thing I knew, I was pregnant and I was forced to marry Ernesto, just to save my honor. My mother assured me that I would have a happy family despite the circumstances. But she was wrong! After we got married, things went from bad to worse! The baby was a stillborn, Ernesto’s mad at me for getting him ‘trapped’ and as for me, I have been quite miserable!”

The songwriter was so appalled that he couldn’t find any words to express his reaction. Is this what Ernesto’s been doing since he moved to Pátzcuaro? Wasn’t he supposed to get experience in performing so that the two of them can become musicians just like they had dreamed? Was he just fooling around? Héctor knew his friend to be a big flirt with the ladies but he couldn’t believe that Ernesto used strong drink on an innocent woman this he could easily lay with her without her crying for help! Was that how he treated his past girlfriends? Anger began to bubble inside him. His fists clenched, and his jaw tightened. 

“Imelda....”

“It’s all right, I am getting used to it,” the woman ended, defeatedly. 

The songwriter started stomping toward the door. “I am going to talk to him!!”

“Que!?” The woman grabbed his arm before he could take one more step. “Usted loco!?”

The songwriter turned his head swiftly to her.

“No! How could he treat you like this? You are his wife, Ernesto is supposed to love you, like how Christ loved the church-not like a slave!” He tried to leave again but Imelda’s trip was tighter on him. He tried again but it was clear that she didn’t want him to leave at all. Sighing he gave up on heading toward the door. Maybe it was not a good time. He would talk to Ernesto later. Right now, his hostess needed comfort. Boy, does everything make sense! 

“No wonder why you were scared of him whenever he was in your presence!”

“I wasn’t scared!” Imelda denied. 

His heart sank at the fact that Imelda denied her feelings. Was she having trouble facing reality or was she too scared?

“And why did he keep you away from your family? You should be allowed to see them-even if you are married!”

“It’s okay, Héctor! I don’t care!”

But Héctor could see that deep down she really missed her family. 

If my family doesn’t want me,” Imelda sniffled. Tears had formed and were already falling down. “Then...I don’t want them either!” She shielded her face so Héctor would not see her tears. 

But Héctor was not fooled. His heart was moved with compassion, that he fished out a a hand kerchief from his pocket and gave it to Imelda. 

The woman was a bit surprised at the gesture but appreciated by taking it. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. 

Héctor slowly wrapped his arms around the woman who welcomed it. She stayed in his comfortable arms for a long time. 

* * *

For the next several weeks, everybody continued doing their same routines.

The sun shone hot and brightly on the last day of August. Héctor was happy that work ended early for him (due to feeling too hot). 

“Ugh, hace calore!” Héctor groaned, as he walked down the road. He opened his water bottle and drank every last drop.His bottle was empty but he was still thirsty. Looking around hopelessly and tiredly, he brightened up when he saw a river nearby.

“I hope the water is cool and fresh!” He said to himself. He kneeled down by the edge of the river and observed it. It looked fresh and cool. Héctor scooped some water into his cupped hands and cautiously took a sip. Much to his relief, the water was cool. Enough for him to drink and be hydrated. He put his bottle in the river to gather water. While he was doing that, he felt something small and furry by his leg.

“Meow!”

Héctor looked around and then looked down to see a small gray kitten looking up at him. Her paws were on his leg and her eyes were staring at him. 

“Aw, Hola gatito,” the songwriter kindly smiled. 

“Where did you come from?” 

The kitten said nothing but only nuzzled her head toward the man’s right hip. 

“Are you thirsty?” 

Héctor didn’t have any milk but he gave her aa bit of water from his bottle. The cat happily lapped at the tip of the bottle and savored 

every drop. When the kitten was done, it nuzzled itself against Héctor and purred. 

The man giggled and ruffled the cat’s head. He also scratched the kitten’s ears which the animal enjoyed. 

“Would you like to come home with me? I know someone who is as lonely as you.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Imelda had been sitting inside with windows wide open and wearing a pink dress of thin material. Her book was the only thing that she was focusing on. Reading was her favorite hobby. Books were something she could escape to and forget about all her troubles. She loved reading stories full of dashing knights, sweet commoners, witty women, and evil warlocks. On the plus side, reading increased her vocabulary intake. And people said that she wasn’t smart, ha! Currently, Imelda is reading a story of a woman who despite being already married, fell in love with a dashing young man. The more the woman read, the more disturbed she became with her book. “Ugh, there’s no way I would do what Anna Karenina did!” Imelda scoffed. “Yes, I have a crummy husband but I am not cheating on him by befriending his amigo, am I?”

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knocking on the door.

“Imelda, I have a surprise for you!” the voice called. 

Imelda’s heart fluttered at the sound of her guest’s voice. She always felt happy to see him! And was always happy to be with him. 

“Coming!” she answered, arising from her chair. Imelda opened the door, with an enquired look. Her guest seemed to be in high spirits. More than usual. 

“Why are you so happy?”

“Look what I got!” Héctor beamed, revealing something that was nestled in his arms. It was a very small kitten. Usually Imelda had no need for animals-too messy. But that was back when she lived in her old big house with her old family. Now upon looking this small animal with its big eyes and soft gray fur was enough to make her smile. What really warmed her heart was when the cat let out a greeting meow.

“Oh my...,” she gasped, taking the new pet into her arms. “She’s lovely!” The cat purred and licked Imelda’s cheek which made Imelda giggle. “Oh gracias Héctor!”

“I knew you’d like her,” the songwriter said kindly. 

Their sweet moment was interrupted by Antonio who came to tell Héctor that they need to come back to Plaza for another rehearsal because Ernesto demanded.

Héctor assured the frantic man that he will be there shortly, and to go on without him.

“Wasn’t my rehearsal canceled because of the extreme heat?” the songwriter wondered. He sighed, wishing that he could really take the rest of the day off.“Lo siento Imelda, but it looks like I have to go.” 

“Está bien, Héctor,” the woman responded gently. “I’ll have dinner ready for you when you come back.” Then, she did something totally unexpected. She pressed her lips against his cheek. It was just a peck but it was enough to make the man fall into a stupor. He didn’t notice Imelda pushing him out and closing the door. He almost tripped on his way out.

* * *

Ernesto had called everybody back for another rehearsal. Secretly, Señor Molina had told him that if he hadn’t been practicing enough, then he would have no reason to come and see them perform. He wanted to work with someone who works hard. Thus that was why Ernesto called everyone back. Not that he would admit because he didn’t want to admit that he hates rehearsals or that he rarely practiced. 

During rehearsal, Héctor had trouble playing his guitar and singing the song well because all he could think about was that kiss! Did it mean anything? Or was it just a spur in the moment? 

“For this music is my language, and the woman is mi world-“

“HECTOR!!” The men yelled, so loud that Héctor hit the wrong chord. 

“Sorry!” 

“Idiota!” Ernesto criticized the guilty tall man so harshly. “Why are you playing so poorly? We would have gone home early if you hadn’t screwed up!”

“Sí!” Gustavo chimed in. “You stink!”

“Oye amigos!” Antonio spoke up, defending Héctor. “At least he’s trying! You Ernesto, on the other hand, had not been working hard either!”

“Sí, I have!” The bulky man whined, like a four year old. “I did too, practice!”

“Not really,” the band muttered underneath their breaths. 

Ernesto gave some thought. 

“Okay, so today was not a good day, and we haven’t practiced as well as we should have but, on other days I worked hard!” He turned to his best friend. “Héctor, haven’t I been playing well during rehearsals?”

“Well...,” Héctor drawled out, awkwardly. “Only whenever a huge crowd of girls stopped by to listen.“ Usually, Héctor would always choose words carefully whenever he had to give constructive criticism. Always kind and encouraging. But for his friend, he had no choice but to be blunt.

“Oye!” Ernesto huffed. “Where is this coming from?”

“Nowhere, But I was just saying-“

“Saying what? That I am not good enough to play at the talent show at all!? If that is the case-“

“Ernesto, stop being so over dramatic!” Héctor rolled his eyes. “Take a deep breath, will you?”

The others agreed, knowing that they cannot succeed without Ernesto’s voice.

At first, Ernesto revisited. However, the more they coaxed him into relaxing, the less angry he felt.

“Should have given everybody the rest of the day off!” he muttered. “There is always tomorrow.”

“Exactly!” Héctor nodded, very agreeable. “So how about you and I go home and see what scrumptious food Imelda is cooking for us?”

“You go ahead, I will stay at the hotel for they are giving me food that is much more ‘scrumptious’ than whatever my wife can cook!” Ernesto responded. Then he left before anyone could say anything to make him change his mind.  
  


”Whatever,” Héctor shrugged. He had become used to Ernesto not coming home with him. Besides, Imelda’s a better host than him!   
  
  


“Buenos Noches Imelda!” the tall man called while coming into the house.   
  


Imelda looked up from her pot and smiled as if she had been waiting for him. “Buenos Noches Héctor!”  


They wrapped their arms around each other.   


Imelda greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. This gesture surprised her guest but not enough to put him into a stupor like last time.

”How was work?” Imelda led Héctor to the dining table and sat him down. “It was okay. How was your day?”   


“I have fun with Pepita today!” the woman beamed, before going back into the kitchen. 

”Pepita?” 

“The cat,” Imelda clarified. “I caught her trying to eat some pumpkin seeds from my jar. That’s how I named her!” She reappeared with two plates of rice, beans, and tortillas. During dinner, the two shared their stories of the day. When Hector told Imelda of his not-a-good day at rehearsal, the woman soothes him and told him that he would get better. It was probably rough day due to the intense heat. The songwriter was pleased to hear that Imelda was getting along with Pepita very well. 

As Imelda was finishing a funny story of Pepita chasing a mouse, she noticed that her guest was fixated upon her.

“Qué? Do I have something on my face?”

”No,” he shook his head. “I was staring at your smile!”

”Por qué? Was there something in my teeth?”

”No, no, no!” Héctor giggled. He giggled so much that súmeles found herself giggling too.   
After the two regained heir composure (which took a while), Imelda asked him: “What’s so fascinating about my smile?” She had kind of said it with in a self-deprecating humor.

”It makes you look beautiful,” Héctor answered, almost in a dreamy voice. “You should smile more often.”

Imelda blushed a deep shade of red. No one has ever told her that-especially Ernesto.   
“Oh, eat your dinner!” she said, trying to cover her embarrassment with annoyance. He was trying to flatter her for some reason.   
  


“But I do mean it!” her guest said, placing his hand softly on hers. “You really do look beautiful when you smile.”

Imelda’s heart was pounding so loud that she wondered if Héctor heard it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited the chapter because I didn’t like the way it ended and thought that having Antonio suspect something would make more sense as time passes by. Also I forgot to have Imelda name the kitten.


End file.
